T is for Team and F is for Fortress
by Pit-Trap
Summary: A is for argue. B is for blood. C is for cards. Follow the BLU team through the entire alphabet.
1. A is for argue

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**A** is for _apple._

"Sol," Demoman stared at his fellow BLU. "That's the third apple ye had today."

"Yeah," Soldier took another bite of said apple. "What of it?"

"What ye eatin' so many apples for?"

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away," Soldier quoted.

"Ah," Demoman rolled his eye. "It's 'cause-"

"Zat may be so, Soldier," Medic briskly walked into the kitchen, where the other two BLUs sat at the table. "But I am a medic, not a doctor." He walked over to the refrigerator, opening it to search for something.

"Same thing!"

"Maybe," Medic said, pulling out a drink and shutting the fridge door. "But I still expect you in zhe infirmary at three 'o' clock for your examination." The German walked out of the kitchen without another word.

Soldier scowled towards the retreating Medic and then back to his half-eaten apple. Grumbling to himself, he set the apple down, seemingly no longer hungry.

Demoman just chuckled.

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**A **is for _Archimedes. _

Pyro gave a grunt of alarm.

Medic looked over to the other to see what was wrong. "Ack, Archimedes!" Medic immediately scolded once he caught sight of what had caused Pyro's grunt of alarm.

Archimedes, one of his doves, was currently nestled in Pyro's gut. Specifically in his large intestines. At the moment, Medic was performing a surgery on Pyro, which is why he was awake with the Medi Gun trained on him. That didn't seem to bother Archimedes. Covered in blood, the bird looked towards Medic and gave a soft chirp.

"Archimedes, get out of zhere! You are going to get a disease! Zat is not a birdbath!" Medic made shooing motions towards the bird.

Archimedes fluttered out of Pyro's gut, sending droplets of blood everywhere.

Medic frowned, taking a moment to clean his glasses. When he finished and turned back towards Pyro, Medic was sure the other BLU was glaring at him from beneath his mask. Small drops of blood had splattered onto the glass covering the mask's eyeholes.

Medic chuckled nervously. "Birds," he shrugged.

"Mmm-hmm…"

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**A** is for _Administrator_.

"YOU _FAILED_."

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**A** is for _argue_.

"I don't see what you're so worked up about, doc," Soldier said.

"I am just getting sick and tired of it, Soldier!" Medic fumed. "Every time I do it, you ignore it!"

"Well, you can't just expect me to wait around all day!"

"Vait around?!" Medic looked even more enraged. "You should be vaiting for me! _I'm_ zhe one following you, healing you! I expect you not to rocket jump avay! I can't follow you vhen you do it!"

"I could teach you!"

"Teach me vhat?"

"How to rocket jump! You'll love it, Fritz! It-"

"Zhe problem is not me not knowing how to rocket jump, Soldier!" Medic screeched. "It's you jumping avay from me!" He slapped a hand to his forehead and sighed. "I'm not following you anymore, Soldier. From know on, I vill stick vith Heavy. At least _he_ doesn't rocket jump avay!"

"You don't mean that, doc!" Soldier looked taken aback. "We make a great team!"

Medic just crossed his arms and glared at Soldier.

Soldier frowned. After a moment of thinking, he guessed, "You're just being sore about earlier today when I rocket jumped away from you-"

"And left me to be burned to death by zhe RED Pyro? _Ja_, a bit," Medic replied in a snarky tone.

"Yeah, but then-"

"And zhe same thing happened vith zhe enemy Heavy, not five minutes later."

"But then I-"

"And zhen you also got me killed by zat sentry."

"That-"

"Zhere vas also zat time vith zhe RED Spy."

"Well it's not my fault you don't have a proper gun to attack with!"

Medic narrowed his eyes. "Because I'm too busy healing _you _to attack. And vhenever I do try to attack, you just tell me to go back to healing!" He gave a frustrated sigh. "Zhere is just no vinning vith you, Soldier."

Soldier huffed. "And you whine too much."

"I do not vhine!"

"You do too!"

"I do _not!_"

"Then what's that pathetic squealing that comes out of your mouth whenever you're with me in battle?"

"My cries of pain vhen zhe enemy _you_ failed to kill, kills me!"

As Soldier and Medic continued their argument, Heavy and Sniper watched from a few feet away. "They argue like a married couple," Sniper nodded to the two other BLUs.

Heavy looked confused. "Like married couple?" he inquired, staring at the Australian.

"Ah, it's just an expression, mate," Sniper clarified. "Jus' means they argue a hell of a lot. Of course, that expression also implies that even though they argue, deep down they really care for each other."

"Oh," Heavy looked back to the still arguing Medic and Soldier. "Maybe only half is true then."

Sniper chuckled.

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**A** is for _ass_.

"Ugh!" Medic burst out of respawn. "Zat RED Spy is such an ass!"

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**A** is for _Australians_.

"Hey, Snipes," Scout nudged Sniper. "Know what I just heard?"

Sniper's eyes slid towards Scout. "Wot?" he asked.

"Australians don't have sex."

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"Australians _mate_," Scout said, snickering.

Sniper just rolled his eyes.

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A/N: Medic, how'd you get into so much of my first chapter?

Alright, so this little story is going to go through the alphabet with the BLU team. You all prolly have a good idea of how this story will play out, seeing as how you've just read this first chapter.

I may also tend to write more about some characters more than others (as you can see with this first chapter…). Mostly 'cause I like some characters more than others.

I'll also give a fair warning: There _might_ be some pairing hints. Keyword: might. I dunno yet. Maybe. It's only the first chapter here, peoples. And even if there are, you'll only be able to see them if you put on a pair of Pyrovision Goggles and stand on your head.


	2. B is for blood

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**B** is for _boom_.

_Boom!_

Demoman smirked. How he loved that sound.

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**B** is for_ blood_.

Medic, out of all the BLUs, was the most used to blood. He saw it practically everyday, after all. Even before he joined the BLU team, he saw it almost everyday. No, it never bothered him. Not as it covered his gloves, his coat, his face, everywhere. It only bothered him when his many doves decided to take a bath in the substances and then fly all over his infirmary. What a mess it was!

Blood never really bothered Soldier either. He, like the Medic, dealt with it everyday, before and after he joined BLU. He grinned whenever he saw blood, knowing it was spewing from his enemies and not his own body. He would frown when it came from his teammates instead of his enemies, though. Blood bothered him a bit more when it came from his teammates.

Heavy had no problems with blood. It came from the body and was, well, necessary for survival. As long as he had enough of it to survive, he had no qualms with the red substance.

Demoman could care less about blood. Depending on what he was blowing up, blood could be there or not. When he blew up a sentry or dispenser, there was no blood. That didn't bother him. When he blew up a person, there was blood. It would spatter about, accompanied by chunks of flesh. That didn't particularly bother him either. Most of the time he was too drunk to notice blood.

Scout wasn't too fond of blood at first. The first time his bat was covered in the substance, he cringed. Had he really done that? Yes, he had. And he had to do it again and again. But seeing all that blood couldn't bother Scout. It was _supposed_ to be normal to see it. Scout now had to simply ignore blood. He _had_ to use his bat, after all. Still, he'd rather hit baseball than heads (not that he'd ever tell his teammates).

Pyro was lucky if he ever saw blood. Flesh wounds don't tend to appear when you light someone on fire. Pyro preferred lighting people on fire than to giving flesh wounds. It was a much prettier death. Sometimes, though, he would set someone on fire and then slash at them with his axe. Best of both worlds, right?

Spy tried to be indifferent about blood. It would always be in his line of work. But it was hard to like or ignore it when it got on his suit. That and it _smelled_. Not bad, but not pleasant either. He tried to finish the job with as little blood being spilled. Now don't be mistaken; he _will_ spill blood if need be. A quick stab to the back or a single shot from on of his guns was just what he preferred. Less blood and less of a mess.

Sniper had something in common with Spy after all. He thought blood was messy. He was fine with getting down and dirty, but blood was extra messy. That was always the worst part whenever he killed an animal in the outback. Having to drain of it of all that blood and then skinning it… Messy, indeed. Not that Sniper truly _cared_. If the job needed to be done, the job needed to be done. And he was always professional about it. At least with people he killed he didn't need to worry about getting any blood on his hands or anywhere else. They were too far away for that.

Engineer, out of all the BLUs, was probably the most uncomfortable with blood. The sight of it made him uneasy, especially when it came from one of his teammates. That was a practical problem he couldn't fix. He also just didn't like blood on his hands, metaphorically and literally. That's why he always left the killing to his sentries.

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**B** is for _balaclava_.

"You all want to see what is under my balaclava?" Spy asked.

There was a variety of nodding heads and shouts of agreement from the rest of the BLUs. All were curious as to what was beneath Spy's mask.

Spy blinked. "You could 'ave just asked," he said after a moment.

"Really?" Engineer looked a bit surprised. "You'll show us? Jus' like that?"

"But of course."

"I figured he wouldn't show us," Scout frowned.

"Well eet's really no big deal," Spy said, moving his fingers to start slipping off his balaclava. "Underneath my balaclava is…"

The BLU team leaned forward.

Spy pulled off his balaclava to reveal… "Another balaclava!"

The entire BLU groaned while Spy just laughed.

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**B** if for _BLU._

Builders League United, or BLU as it was usually abbreviated, was full of a number of unique mercenaries.

There was Engineer. One rarely saw his bright blue eyes behind his goggles. Same with his bald head that was usually under his yellow hardhat. He was one of the shorter members of BLU, but probably the second strongest. Carrying dispensers and sentries around in the heat of battle really gave him muscles. In the heat of battle was usually the only time he used them. Engineer is pretty laid-back. He's easy to talk to and always happy to. If his teammates had a problem, he'd try to help them fix it. He was pretty good at fixing problems, especially practical ones. Engineer's usually a calm guy and real good to have in desperate situations. Overall, he was a real great guy to have on the BLU team. His name is Dell Conagher.

There was Sniper. He has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes to match, but they were usually hidden behind his aviator glasses. He's tall and lanky. He's a bit of a loner, but that didn't mean he didn't like his teammates. He'd watch his teammates' backs. He'd then kill whoever threatened his teammates from afar. But Sniper didn't worry if the fight came a little closer to home. That's what his kukri was for and he knew very well how to use it. Sniper was also a lot more knowledgeable than his teammates gave him credit for. Spending time in the Australian Outback meant he knew a lot about nature and animals. Secretly, he loved both of those things. He's a helpful guy to have in BLU. His name is Wesley Blake.

There was Spy. He has deep blue eyes. Occasionally his black eyebrows would peak from beneath his balaclava, so one could only guess his hair color was a dark shade to match. He was surprisingly good-natured for a spy. Spy enjoys teasing his teammates and having a good time, but still takes his work very seriously. And Spy was very good at what he did. The number of tricks he could do with a knife was astounding. He appears to enjoy his cloaking device, the Invis Watch, a little too much sometimes. He enjoys nothing more than a game of cards, good music, and dancing. Few people outside of BLU know his real name. Only one of his teammates knows his real name and even they rarely use it.

There was Pryo. None of his teammates knew his hair color or eye color. He was pretty good about keeping his gas mask and suit on. Pyro, of course, loved nothing more than fire. And during battle, he was very good attacking with it. He didn't really pity his victims when they burned to death. He thought their death was pretty. To him, fire was beauty. One might think Pyro was slightly insane, had a minor case of serious brain damage, or just flat out terrifying, but not so. He was actually a really friendly fellow, maybe a bit on the shy side when you'd first talk with him. Pyro is fiercely loyal to his fellow BLU. The flames he spread during battle were a welcomed sense of security to his teammates. They knew when he was around, you had a good teammate, a great BLU, and a loyal friend. However, none of his teammates knew his real name, but they were okay with that.

There was Scout. He is (much to his dismay) the youngest and shortest of the BLUs. They say eyes are windows to the soul, and Scout's green eyes tended to be just that. One glance at his face, his eyes, and his expression, and you could read him like a book. Of course if he didn't like you doing that, he would give you a good whack with his bat or a swift kick (running all the time gave him exceptionally strong legs). Intelligence is never safe when he's around, but he tends to get into trouble before and after he nabs it. He _tries_ to look before he leaps and is always ready to put his two cents in. He's not only fast, but flexible as well. Scout knows quite a few dance moves and plays an instrument (not that he'll ever let his teammates know, let alone that he _likes_ doing both of those things). Despite what his teammates might say, he's not nearly as annoying as he could be. His name is Oliver Cromwell.

There was Demoman. His eye was a light brown. He lost the other one in an accident involving a bar, toothpicks, and some very angry tourists. Don't look at it as a disability, though. He's more than capable of blowing you off your feet with explosives (or your feet off of you). And he loves nothing more than that. Messing with explosives, that is. He's also a fan of golfing (though he's not very good at it) and booze (if drinking was a sport, he'd be a pro). If one meets him when he's sober, they'll find he's a pretty likeable guy with tons of interesting stories to tell (though ninety-five percent of them probably aren't true). Most of those stories probably include mythical creatures in them, seeing as he enjoys everything about them. He can draw fairly well, but the multiple explosives he uses are much more helpful to BLU and his teammates. His name is Bowie Munro.

There was Heavy. His blue eyes and bald head weren't usually the first thing one would notice about him. Most would first take note of his rather large size. With his size and muscles he was more than qualified to carry his Minigun he dubbed Sascha. Then again, he was probably the only one on the team able to lift it (and it's not like he would _allow_ anyone else to touch his gun). He was a force to be reckoned with in battle. Outside of battle, though, he's a bit quieter. Though Heavy says little, his words often mean a lot. His English is pretty good, but common expressions confuse him. He enjoys reading in his spare time, but using Sascha is a bit more useful to BLU. His name is Feliks Novosi.

There was Soldier. He always made sure his dirty blonde hair was cut in a buzz cut. His blue eyes were usually glaring. He wasn't as large as Heavy, but certainly another force to be reckoned with. That man could do some pretty crazy tricks with a rocket launcher and he very much enjoyed using it (as well as a number of other weapons, too). War isn't a very pretty thing, but it fascinates Soldier. He enjoys reading and learning about war. Despite his America-is-better-than-any-other-country attitude, he enjoys history (mostly American, but the country is only so old. He had to read about some other countries eventually). Soldier's a little hard to talk to at times, but his teammates know, deep down, that he's the best, loyalist soldier and teammate they could have. BLU wouldn't ever be able to find another like him. His name is Jane Doe.

There was Medic. He has black hair and sharp green eyes hidden behind his glasses. He might just be the oldest one the team, but he'd never tell. His main job was to heal, but he didn't mind hurting if he had to. It was just as fun. Still, he's a rather serious guy. It takes quite a bit to get him to laugh. He also gets annoyed easily (more so via his own teammates than the REDs). But still, teammates are teammates and despite how much he'll chastise or yell at them, his fellow BLU know they he'll be there for them. Medic owns a few doves and is the second-best cook out of his fellow BLUs. There's no doubt he's better with healing, though. His name is Marko Meyer.

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**B** is for _baseball_.

Medic jumped at the sound of one of the infirmary's windows shattering into a thousand pieces. All his doves scattered with frightened chirps, flying in frantic circles around the infirmary. Their panic in turn caused all the papers on his desk to tumble to the floor. After his doves finally settled down, Medic could only gape at all the feathers, papers, and tiny pieces of glass on the ground. Then he saw the baseball on the ground a few feet away from the window. Medic's gaping face turned into a scowl.

"SCOUT!"

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A/N: Paragraphs. Paragraphs everywhere.

Alright, so I figured I'd write a little bit about how I saw each BLU, their personalities, and other little bits of info about them. I decided to actually give them some names, too. In all honesty, I Googled a few and made up some off the top of my head. I won't even use the names much, if at all. Probably not at all. Except maybe Spy's and Medic's. Their names might pop up later.

I know few of you probably care, but I wanna say why I prefer BLU team over RED. I like BLU more than RED simply because the people who introduced me to TF2 favored BLU. In all honesty, at first I didn't like BLU. 'Cause it was misspelled of all things. But my sister and cousin (the ones who got me into TF2) changed my opinion. Basically, I just like BLU because they do.

What about you guys? What's your favorite team: RED or BLU? Why do you like that team more? Color preference? Spelling issues? Tell me in a review!


	3. C is for cards

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**C** is for _cat_.

Sniper slammed the door to his camper van shut. He then turned to make his way back towards the base. His camper van was actually parked around the back of their Teufort base, so he headed for the entrance to Engineer's workshop (which was the base's back entrance). Catching Spy smoking there or Engineer sitting on some of the wooden crates littered around the entrance was pretty common. Finding Scout sitting on a wooden crate with a cat cuddling next to him was not.

"Scout?"

Scout snapped his head up. "Snipes!" His eyes quickly darted to the cat and then back to Sniper's. "Uh, what's up?"

Sniper chuckled. "I should be askin' you that," he said, nodding towards the cat. "Wot 'cha got there?"

"Nothin'," Scout answered quickly.

"Well "nothin'" sure seems ta like ya," Sniper said as he sat on a crate across from Scout. He watched the cat rub against Scout's side, purring. The cat had tan, sandy colored fur covered with black spots. The cat's bright amber eyes watched Sniper for a moment before looking back towards Scout.

Scout looked down at the cat, petting it. "I guess," he mumbled. "Found her on the other side of the base. She's real skinny, see? So I brought her inside to give her some turkey slices. Medic caught me," he said sheepishly. "Started yellin' at me to get the cat out of the base."

"Ah," Sniper nodded.

"I mean, what's the big deal about bringing one little cat inside?"

Sniper chuckled. "She's not what I'd call a little cat. She's real skinny, yeah, but she's pretty tall fer a cat. Looks like a domestic Bengal ta me," he said, looking at the cat. "And don't let Medic get ta ya. He was prolly jus' worried the cat would go fer some of his doves."

"Well, yeah!" Scout snorted. "She was hungry! I mean, look how skinny she is. We're in, like, a freakin' desert. What's out there for her to eat? I had to bring her in and give her somethin' to eat. She was real thirsty, too."

"Yeah," Sniper reached over to the cat and let her sniff his hand before he pet her head. "I would've given her somethin' ta eat, too."

"And what're the chances of her findin' our base anyways? She could-a been wanderin' around in the desert forever! She could-a starved."

"Yeah."

"I bet she doesn't have any place to go..."

"Mmm-hmm…"

"And we can't just _let_ her go back into the desert…"

"Scout," Sniper started to warn. "You best stop right there."

"Aw, c'mon, Snipes! We can't jus' throw her back out into the desert!" Scout repeated in a pleading tone. "We could keep her!"

"Oh, you think Medic'll like that idea? And I can't wait ta see Solly's face when we tell 'im we're gonna keep a cat," Sniper said. "Scout, I like cats jus' as much as you do, but there's no way we could keep her here."

Scout frowned, lowering his gaze back down to the cat curled up to his side. "S'not fair," he grumbled. "Medic can keep his doves, but I can't keep a cat."

Sniper then felt something he hadn't feel very much. A twinge of guilt. Few knew this: he liked animals, cats included. Sure, he hunted and such, but he grew up on a farm. He had cats, dogs, goats, horses, all kinds of animals. You name it, Sniper probably had one at some point. He also, contrary to popular belief, liked Scout. He didn't want the Bostonian to be all down in the dumps. And the kid did have a point: letting her go back into the desert was a bit cruel. But they couldn't keep her… "Tell you wot, Poppy," Sniper said as he nudged Scout's shin with his foot. "I'll keep the cat in me camper 'till the end of the week. And this weekend, we'll drive up to that little town forty miles away from here and find her a good home there. That way we won't be banishin' her back to the desert and she'll have a permanent home. Sound good?"

Scout looked over to his teammate, thinking about his offer. "Yeah," he said, nodding slowly.

So the cat, who Sniper insisted they were not to name, found temporary residence in Sniper's camper van. She would sleep on his clothes (clean or not), eat bits of meat he brought back from meals, and stubbornly demand the Australian's attention whenever he was in the van. She demanded Scout's attention the other half of the time. Scout was now frequently visiting his van just to see her. He seemed to enjoy the time he spent with the cat. Sniper was going to dread the day they'd have to get rid of the cat, for he _knew_ Scout wouldn't like it. Sniper choose not to think about it. So far, their little plan was going well and none of their teammates suspected a thing. Until Wednesday came along, that is.

"Cat?" Sniper stepped out of his camper van, looking from side to side. He had let the cat out to relieve herself and after fifteen minutes, he hadn't heard her meowing at the door to be let back in. Great. Scout would throw a hissy fit when he found out he lost the cat. Sniper looked all around his van, but didn't find her anywhere near it. Near the back entrance, maybe? Oh, he hoped not. If the door was open, the cat could just wander in. But that door was rarely o- "Goddamn it," Sniper swore. The back door that led to Engineer's workshop was open. Sniper walked it, scanning the workshop. Hopefully, Engineer wasn't-

"Hey, Sniper!"

Goddamn it. Engineer _was _in here. Sniper turned to see him sitting on a stool in front of a table. What he was doing at the table made Sniper's jaw drop. "You little mongrel!" he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not you, Truckie," Sniper said sheepishly. "The cat you're pettin'."

The sandy colored cat sat on a table, purring away as Engineer scratched her behind the ears. Engineer looked from her to Sniper. "You, uh, know her?"

"Yeah, she's Scout's cat," Sniper explained. "Wait, no, she's not. He jus' _found_ her outside the base. Wanted ta keep her. So I've been keepin' her in me camper van for the past few days."

"So yer keepin' her?"

"No," Sniper snorted. "We're gonna drive her into town this weekend and find her a permanent home."

"You are."

"Yes."

"And Scout _agreed_ to that?"

"I hope so."

Engineer chuckled. "Good luck this weekend, then," he said, still petting the cat.

The cat soon found her second temporary residence: Engineer's workshop. With all those little places to hide in, interesting smells, and a friendly Texan to play with, it was the perfect place to sneak to whenever Sniper let her out. Engineer didn't seem to mind. He seemed to enjoy the cat's company, even. But he always made sure the door from his workshop to the base was closed, so the cat wouldn't wander even further into the base. Still, no matter how much Scout, Sniper, or Engineer tried to hide their furry companion, it wasn't soon until another BLU found out about the cat.

Sniper was in his camper van, cleaning his gun. He had just let the cat out a while ago. Deciding she had been out long enough, Sniper got up to let her in. He pushed the door open, calling, "Here-"

"Auugh!"

Sniper jumped. He leaned further out the door to look to his right, around the open door. "Spook?"

Spy had probably been leaning against the camper van before Sniper opened the door. Now, however, he was currently holding his nose, cursing in French. "'ello to you too," he spat rather viciously a moment later.

"What the hell you doin' here?"

"None of you business."

"Considerin' yer out here at _my_ camper van, I reckon it is."

Spy gave Sniper a withering look. He removed his hands from his nose, relieved to find it not bleeding. "I was curious," he said after a moment. "As to why Scout was coming out to your van so much recently." He straightened his tie before pointing to his feet. "I 'ave now confirmed why."

Sniper looked down. There, sitting right next to Spy's left foot, was the sandy colored cat. She looked up at Sniper lazily before glancing back at Spy and meowing. Sniper frowned. "Look here," he pointed to Spy threateningly. "You tell anyone 'bout this cat-"

Spy held up one of his hands. "No worries, bushman," he said. "I'm just surprised Scout 'as yet to let it slip out yet."

"Wait, so ya already knew-"

"I did say I _confirmed_ zhe reason as to why Scout suddenly came out 'ere so much. And I may 'ave overheard a conversation or two," Spy smirked. He reached down the pet the cat one last time. "_Au revoir, petite chat_," he said. With a small wave to Sniper, Spy walked back towards the base.

After that, Sniper was pretty sure the rest of the team would find out about the cat before he and Scout had a chance to get rid of it. So it wasn't too much of a shock to Sniper when he walked into Engineer's workshop Thursday to find Engineer, Heavy, and Pyro cooing over the cat. All of them would deny that to this day, however (except maybe Pyro). Demoman saw the cat as well (though he was probably too drunk to remember much about the encounter). Soldier was another story. Sniper was expecting him to go off about a cat just being _near_ the base, but…

Sniper was gaping. He couldn't really help it. Soldier was just standing there, having a completely normal conversation with Engineer. And that wasn't even the weird part. Scout was sitting a few feet away, playing with the cat with a sock. And Soldier didn't even notice. He acted like Scout and the cat weren't even there. "I dunno, Engie," Soldier was saying.

"Aw, give it a shot, Sol," Engineer said. "Ya don't know 'till ya try."

"But it's so… un-American."

"That's kinda the point," Engineer rolled his eyes beneath his goggles. "It's British."

Soldier still frowned. He looked thoughtful. The look didn't even break the look as the cat wandered over to Soldier and rubbed against his leg. In fact, he actually reached down to _pet_ it. Looking down at the cat and then over to Scout, Soldier changed the subject. "Why haven't you let the cat into the base yet?"

_Yet?_

Before Scout could answer, Sniper broke in, "You mean you knew about the cat?"

Soldier looked a bit surprised. "Yeah," he said. "Engie told me about it. Why haven't you two let her into the base yet? I thought she's been here for a few days."

Scout tossed the sock and the cat tore away from Soldier to pounce on it. "I can't," he said to Soldier. "Medic'll throw a fit if I do. 'sides it's not like we can keep her."

"Who told you that?"

Scout looked at Sniper, who frowned in return."Look, _I_ don't have any qualms about keepin' the cat," the Australian said to Soldier. "I figured you 'n' Medic would have issues keepin' the cat."

"You kidding?" Soldier snorted. "I ain't got a problem with the cat stayin'. I like cats!"

"You do?"

"Yeah," Soldier look at the cat. "'sides, we could use one around here. We got mice. 'specially here in Engie's workshop."

"I don't got mice in here!" Engineer shouted indignantly. He paused before asking, "Do I?"

Before anyone could confirm that, Scout piped up, "So… we _can_ keep her?"

"Sure," Soldier shrugged.

"Now, hold up a minute," Sniper said. "The whole reason I told Scout no in the first place was 'cause I didn't think everyone would like her. I know you all like her, but I think everyone in the base should agree ta keep her."

"Sniper's got a point," Engineer pointed out. "I know almost everyone has seen her and is fine with her, but… Not everyone has seen the cat."

Scout and Soldier frowned.

"Y'all need ta run this by Medic," Engineer looked between the other BLUs. "If he's alright with it, we'll keep her. If not, then Scout 'n' Sniper'll have to find her a better home this weekend."

Scout groaned and Soldier's frown seemed to deepen. Then, rather abruptly, Soldier turned and walked out of Engineer's workshop. The other three blinked after him and then at each other. What was Soldier doing? It took a few minutes, but the three did find out. Soldier walked back in the workshop, dragging Medic along with him. "_Mein Gott_," Medic was saying. "Vhat is it, Soldier?"

Soldier stopped walking and just pointed to Scout's feet, where the sandy colored cat sat.

Medic paused. After fixing his glasses, he looked down at the cat. "Is zat zhe same cat from before?" He asked Scout.

"Uh, yeah," Scout gave a small nod.

"You never got rid of it, did you?"

"Not really, no," Scout said as he looked at his feet.

"Vhy am I not surprised," Medic rolled his eyes before looking back at Soldier. "Vhat is it you vanted?"

Soldier looked at Medic before looking to the cat. He repeated this a few times. Scout did the same. Sniper and Engineer both cast a few glances at the cat before keeping their gazes on Medic as well. None of them said anything for a minute.

Medic shifted uncomfortably. "Vhy do I feel like I caught you all vith your hands in zhe cookie jar, hmm?" He looked at each of his fellow BLUs. They all continued to glance and him and then to the cat. Medic looked down at the cat. Then he looked back to his teammates. He narrowed his eyes. Then it hit him. "Oh no."

"Oh, yes," Soldier grinned.

"You all vant to keep zis cat."

"Yes!"

"Affirmative!"

"Sure thing, mate."

"I wouldn't mind a cat being here an' all..."

"You all," Medic motioned to the other four. "Vant to keep zis random cat Scout found in zhe desert here in our base vhere ve live?"

They all nodded.

"In zhe base?"

More nodding.

"Vith us?"

Again with the nodding.

"Aw, c'mon, doc," Scout pleaded before Medic could say anything else. "We'll keep her out you your hair. She won't go near your birds!"

"She could get rid of all them mice we have in our base," Soldier said. "Trust me, Engie really needs her!"

"I do not have mice in here!" Engineer grumbled to Sniper. "I mean," he sputtered when Scout and Soldier gave him the same look. "If _I _did, help would be appreciated."

"Please, please, _please_, doc!" Scout was bouncing up and down. "We'll take care of her! Ya won't even have ta look at her, pet her, anything! Ya can ignore her completely."

"Ack, stop vith zhe jumping, Scout!"

Scout did so, but still looked expectantly at Medic. In fact, all the others were, too.

Medic shifted uncomfortably again. "Everyone else already knows about it, _ja_?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah."

"And zey are alright vith zhe cat staying?"

"Yes!"

Medic let out a long sigh, staring at his other four teammates. "I vant zhe cat kept out of zhe infirmary," he said sternly. "She goes after _one_ of my doves and she is out of here! Understood?"

Scout tried not to squeal. "Yes!" he gushed. "Thanks, doc!"

"_Ja, ja_…"

"Hey, hey, Snipes," Scout jabbed Sniper in the side. "I'ma name her now, 'kay?"

Sniper rolled his eyes. "S'fine with me now, Poppy," he chuckled.

"I used ta have a real good cat named Whiskers," Engineer said. "Why don't we call her that?"

"That's not girly enough. She's a chick cat, Engie."

"How about Fluffy?" 

Everyone gave Soldier a weird look.

"What?"

"Eh," Scout shook his head. "She's not fluffy enough."

"Sandy?" Sniper tried.

"That's so _boring_, though," Scout frowned.

"Lyra."

Everyone turned to look at Medic.

"Vhat?" Medic frowned, narrowing his eyes at all his teammates. "Can I not make a suggestion as vell?"

"It's not that," Soldier said. "I figured you try to give her some weird-o, Greek scientist name or something."

"It is a Greek name," Medic rolled his eyes.

"I like it," Scout piped up. "It's girly enough for her, but not boring."

"Not bad at all," Sniper nodded.

"Lyra it is then!" Soldier agreed.

Engineer chuckled, reaching down to pet the sandy colored cat. "Welcome to the BLU team, Miss Lyra," he said.

Lyra looked up and let out a meow.

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**C** is for _cards._

Each member of BLU had their own little quirks, oddities, and weird little habits. Spy had one. Spy had an odd habit that involved cards. He almost always carried a deck with him. He liked playing cards games, yes, but that wasn't what he usually did with his cards. Spy had a habit of shuffling his cards whenever he needed to think. Over and over again, he'd shuffle and shuffle the cards as he thought. He would often deal them out, like one would in a game, and then gather them back up to be reshuffled again. Spy just needed something to keep his hands busy while he thought. If his cards weren't available, one of his many knives would do instead, but he much preferred cards.

The BLU team quickly learned that when Spy was shuffling cards, he was deep in thought and they tried their best not to bother him. Well, most of the BLUs did. Whenever Scout saw Spy messing with his cards, Scout took it as an invitation to join him. Strangely enough, Spy had yet to once snap at Scout for interrupting his card shuffling.

"What 'cha thinkin' about?" Scout asked as he walked over to Spy, upon noticing he was shuffling cards at the kitchen table.

Spy didn't look up. He kept his eyes on the cards as he dealt them out. "Nothing too serious this time," he said eventually.

"Oh," Scout sat across from Spy, watching him shuffle and deal.

Spy gathered the cards up once more, still not looking at Scout, and started to shuffle them. Once done, he formed a neat stack and set them on the table. He took a few from the top and spread them out in his hand, looking at them. "I was thinking," Spy finally looked over to Scout. "About zhe cards."

"The cards?"

"_Oui_," Spy nodded, turning his attention back to the cards. "And I was thinking 'ow we all represented a card."

"We?" Scout looked puzzled. "Ya mean like all us BLUs?"

"_Oui_," Spy selected a card from his hand and pulled it from the rest. "For instance," he showed the card to Scout. It was a King of Spades. "'eavy would be a King." Spy tossed the card to Scout before selecting another card. "And Medic would be 'is Queen." He tossed another card.

Scout caught the Queen of Hearts card. He glanced at it briefly before snorting, "I have a feelin' Medic would disagree with ya on that one."

Spy grinned. "Perhaps," he said, picking out another card and showing it to Scout. "Engineer would be a Spade because a spade is an actual tool." He slid the card over. "While Demoman would be a Club."

As Spy handed him a Spade and Club card, Scout asked, "Why would Demo be a Club?"

"Eet is close to zhe symbol of Ireland."

"But Demo's Scottish."

"Close enough."

Scout snickered.

"Soldier would be Diamonds, and Pyro 'earts," Spy pulled the cards from his hand and flicked them towards Scout.

"Pyro? Hearts?" Scout looked at the Eight of Hearts in his hand. "Why?"

Spy looked thoughtful. "I 'ave no real reason for zat one," he admitted after a small moment. "'earts was just what was left and all I really 'ad in mind for 'im."

Grinning, Scout just raised an eyebrow.

"Sniper would 'ave to be a Jack," Spy pulled a Jack from his hand. "Because 'e is a jackass." He slammed the card facedown on the table.

Scout laughed.

"And you, Scout, would be a Joker. You would be a Joker," Spy started to explain before Scout could ask why. "Because zhe Joker card is useless in many games." Spy held up a hand for silence when Scout started to spit at the supposed insult. "But in a select few games, a Joker 'appenes to be a wild card, a card zat trumps all others." Spy handed Scout a Joker card.

Scout looked from the Joker card in his hand, to Spy, and then back at the card in his hand. He couldn't decide whether Spy had insulted him or complemented him. He suddenly stopped thinking about it when he realized something. "Wait, what about you, Spy?" Scout asked. "What card do you represent?"

"I do not represent one, Scout," Spy gathered the cards all up again. He started to shuffle them. "For I am zhe one who 'olds all zhe cards."

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A/N: Okay, I don't play cards games. I actually had to Google all the types of cards and get a little bit of info on them. Still don't know what I was really aiming for with that little card one either.

And please don't gripe about the cat. I have a feeling some people won't like her, but she'll be popping up in a few other chapters.

Oh, another thing! I have a brand new, shiny DeviantArt account that I'm posting this story on as well! So if you're on that website as well, look me up. My name's KiwiKestrel on there.


	4. D is for darts

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**D** is for _danger-prone_.

"You are so danger-prone."

"I'm what?" Scout frowned, glancing back towards Spy.

"Danger-prone," Spy repeated.

"It means yer prone ta gettin' inta danger," Engineer tried to explain. "Ya know, like dangerous things keep happenin' to ya."

"What?" Scout now scowled, turning completely around to glare at Spy. "I am not danger-prone!"

Spy snorted. "Yes, you are. Danger follows you _everywhere_," he said. "You get into trouble all zhe time."

"Considerin' our line-a work 'n' all, I would think danger comes with the job."

"Hmm…" Spy smirked, humming in thought. "Zat may be true, but you still manage to get into trouble outside our _normal_ workday."

Engineer chuckled. "I'm afraid I have ta agree, Scout," he said sheepishly. "Danger does tend ta follow you around like a stray dog."

"Oh, yeah?" Scout now scowled at both of his fellow BLUs. "Name one time I got into trouble outside of a battle."

"Well there was zat one time with zhe pitfall," Spy noted as he pulled out a cigarette.

"I remember that," Engineer snapped his fingers.

"How the hell was I supposed ta know a pitfall was there?"

"Well eet was _RED_ territory you were trespassing on," Spy raised an eye brow at the Bostonian.

"That-"

"What about that time with the RED Spy?" Engineer wondered aloud.

Scout screwed up his face in disgust at that memory. "Ya mean when he snuck into our base when I was in the infirmary?" he asked.

"Yep."

"That definitely doesn't count," Scout argued. "I was injured! And, hello, that rat snuck into _our_ base!"

"Wnff aboph mph tinf wifff Mermphunf mph hwn hn murph infoo nyuh swnnf?" Pyro said as he rounded a corner, jumping into the group's conversation.

"That was Solly's fault!"

"That one was kind of an accident," Engineer piped up. "I'm mean, really, how was Scout supposed to know _that_ of all things would happen?"

"Mph drinf wnnf mnnf foff Sulldnph, Myye gunff," Pyro pointed out.

"Still caused me more than a few 'eadaches," Spy snorted.

"Wow," Scout frowned, glaring at his fellow BLUs. "Standing right here, guys."

"Mph abnph mph tnm wiff mph snph?"

"Ah, that freaked _everybody_ out. Put us all in danger it did."

"There was zat one time with ze 'orseless 'eadless 'orsemann."

"Mph snm phinf hanfph tff mph RNFF Scph."

"Still here, guys."

"So yer sayin' both the Scouts are danger-prone now?"

"Inf colph bee muh Scph phinng."

"Ah, yes. Zat would explain why-"

"_Oh my god_!" Scout interrupted loudly. "I am standing right here! And I am not danger-prone! All those things yous guys listed had probable causes for them happenin' to me! Causes I couldn't control! Jeez! An' you guys're just standin' here, grippin' like all that shit ya just listed off hap-"

"Vatch out!"

The warning from Medic came a bit late. A gurney carrying a screaming Soldier was flying down the hallway at an alarming rate, and headed right for the four mercenaries. Spy, Pyro, and Engineer quickly jumped out of the way, hugging the wall to avoid the path of fast approaching gurney. But Scout was too busy ranting to realize how close and quickly approaching the Solider-carrying gurney was. Pyro yanked him out of the way just in time to avoid being hit by the gurney. The four BLUs then watched as the gurney sped past them and down the hallway. A frustrated Medic ran after the gurney and Soldier, making sure to curse every two steps he took. He soon disappeared down the hallway as well.

Scout, Pyro, Engineer, and Spy looked down the hallway a second longer. Then, Pyro, Engineer, and Spy all snapped their heads to look smugly at Scout.

Scout twitched. "I could-a-"

"Danger-prone," Spy and Engineer said at the time.

"Mmm-hmm," Pyro agreed.

"Ugh…"

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**D** is for _die_.

"So, Pyro," Scout walked next to his fire-loving teammate as all the BLUs headed back to the base. "How many times did ya die today, huh?"

"Mmm," Pyro looked thoughtful before snapping his fingers. "Forphy-enuff."

"Forty-eight?" Scout grinned. "Hey, that's a personal record, ain't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," Pyro said happily.

"Pffft, I was no where near my personal record," Scout said glumly. "I only died fifty-six times today."

"Awnf," Pyro cooed apologetically. "Yollnf dnf moph tomoruff."

"Yeah, I-"

"Are you two seriously," Spy cut in. "Keeping track of 'ow much you die each day _and_ keeping personal records of 'ow many times you died zhe most?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Zat is zhe single most s-"

"How many times did ya die today?" Scout asked.

"_Quoi_?"

"How many times did ya die today?"

"You 'onestly think zat I keep track oh 'ow many times I die?"

"Uh-huh," Both Scout and Pryo nodded.

"…" Spy looked both taken aback and slightly offended at the same time, but after a moment eventually sighed and said, "Thirty-seven."

"Oohhh," Both Pyro and Scout said at the same time.

"That's real nice, Spy," Scout brought a hand up to pat Spy on the shoulder. "But tomorrow, try to die forty times."

"Wait," Spy looked even more taken aback now. "You two are keeping track of 'ow many times you die and trying to _increase_ zhe amount of time you die in a battle?"

"Duh."

Spy narrowed his eyes. "Zat's being a bit counterproductive, don't you think? I would think you should be trying to die _less_."

"Pfft, what's the fun in that?" Scout grinned. "'sides, me an' Pyro still do plenty good at our jobs. I still get the Intel and Pyro still burns Spies to death."

"Mmm-hmm."

Spy just slapped a hand to his face.

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**D** is for _darts._

There was a dartboard in the BLU "living room" (as they lovingly called it). Sniper used it. Whenever he was bored or just needed to think, he would go to the living room and throw darts. It wasn't as fun as getting a headshot on a target, but it still passed the time or relieved his boredom. Getting bull's-eyes all the time wasn't all that bad either (being a sniper _really _helped with getting them and all). But because of that it was rare when he actually got one of his teammates to play with him, though. Sniper _did_ get Scout to play a game of darts with him once.

Halfway through the game of darts, Scout _finally_ realized why he was losing so badly.

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**D** is for _Demoman_.

"I think he's dead."

"Hmm…"

"I mean, look at 'im! He hasn't moved in, like, a whole freakin' hour!"

"Mye dunnf…"

"Is he breathin'? Can ya tell?"

"Nnotf rrry."

"See? He's totally dead!"

"Wouldnph refonph tnnk hm mph hmf dnnf?"

"Respawn? Yeah, I guess…"

Both Pyro and Scout stood in the doorway of the living room. They were looking at the room's only couch, which held Demoman on its cushions. They were debating whether or not he was dead. The Scot had been lying there for well over an hour, in the same position! Demoman was facing away from Pyro and Scout, with his back to them. His face was pushed into the back of the couch. Pyro and Scout watched for a few more moments.

"Mueayb mph shnnf-"

Pyro was interrupted by a loud snore. Demoman rolled over and right off the couch, landing on the ground with a _thump_. "Uuhh... 'm a grass… a' th' pain train… gonna hafta glue… that Sol's a…Scrupmy…" he incoherently mumbled to himself. His eye was closed and he was hugging a bottle of booze. Oh. So Demoman had gotten wasted and was sleeping it off.

"Snf?" Pyro motioned towards his sleeping teammate. "Demo wnf jstf drunnph, nff dnnf. Hnf jstf bnnmn hmmslph."

"Yeah, you're right. Demo's just being Demo."

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A/N: Ah, D. I did not like you. You were not as fun as I thought you would be.


	5. E is for elbows

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**E** is for _elbows_.

"MAGGOT! I do not need functioning elbows to kick your ass!"

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**E** is for _Engineer_.

Engineer was a Gemini. Or at least that's what his team assumed. There appeared to be two sides to him. There was his normal, laid-back Engie-self, which is how he acted ninety-eight percent of the time. He was usually easy to talk to and always happy to. He was great at solving all sorts of problems and would always help his teammates if they had any problems he could fix. He was always calm in desperate situations, and came up with good plans just when the team needed one. All in all, ninety-eight percent of the time, Engineer was a great guy and an even better teammate.

Now, the other _two percent_ of the time was… Well, that was usually when Engineer was really, really annoyed or really, really mad. And one did not want to be around Engineer when he was feeling either of those emotions. It wasn't exactly hard to pinpoint examples and instances that caused Engineer to feel said emotions…

a) Enraged, Engineer clocked the RED Spy right in the jaw with his wrench, effectively killing him. "And that's what happens when ya try ta sap mah sentry!"

b) Engineer stomped into the kitchen, scowling. "Alright, which one of ya made fun of Pyro's new weapon and made 'im all sulky?"

c) "_Who_ ate mah bacon?!"

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**E** is for _evil_.

That little red dot was pure _evil_. Lyra was sure of it. It was very fast. No matter how many times she thought she caught it, it would just appear again a few feet away! It'd go all over the room, in so many different places! Along the wall, all over the floor, and around the furniture! Sometimes, it would mock her by blinking rapidly, disappearing, and then appearing again a few seconds later, still blinking. Lyra had pounced her hardest for the past twenty minutes, but still the little red dot danced around the room. She gave up. For now anyways.

Scout watched as Lyra slumped against the ground, tired. She had been chasing the red dot for quite a while.

From his seat across from Scout, Spy flicked the small laser pointer off. He was smirking.

"Look how tired you made her."

"Zat is zhe point of zhe laser pointer," Spy said. "To wear 'er out."

"But she looks so sad that she didn't get the dot," Scout said, still looking at Lyra.

Spy turned the laser pointer towards Scout and flicked in on and off a few times in his face.

Scout jumped at the flashing in his face before snickering, "You're evil!"

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**E** is for _eye patch_.

"Hey, Demo," Scout asked. "How'd you get your eye patch?"

Demoman stopped drinking, lowering his bottle of booze to look at Scout. "It's a _long_ story, boyo," the Scot said.

"S'not like I got any place to be."

Demoman grinned. "Well, then," he started. "It all happened 'cause o' a bar, toothpicks, and a couple o' very angry tourists…"

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**E** is for _erecting. _

"Erectin' a dispenser!" Engineer announced as he started whacking his newly placed dispenser.

Only a few feet away, Scout giggled.

Engineer just sighed and rolled his eyes.

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**E** is for _emergency_.

"Ooohhh nooo," Demoman wailed as he ran into the kitchen. "Oh no! Lads, we got an emergency!"

"An emergency?!" Soldier jumped up. "Are the REDs attacking?"

"No!"

"Are you injured?" Medic inquired.

"No!"

"Are you outta explosives or something?" Scout asked.

"No, but that sounds jus' as bad!"

"Then what is zhe emergency?" Spy finally asked.

"I'm out o' me Scrumpy!" Demoman wailed in anguish.

"Ugh," the rest of the BLUs groaned in response.

"What?"

"Demo," Engineer piped up. "That ain't no emergency."

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A/N: I recognize that there are plenty more E words out there, but seeing as they're stupid words, I've elected to ignore them.

Engie gets especially mad and annoyed when you eat his bacon. Don't be stealin' his bacon, peeps.

Ah, and I realized I forgot to address a few things some Guests brought up in a few reviews a couple chapters ago. Now, I don't like blocking Guests from reviewing 'cause I, of course, like getting reviews and seeing what you guys have to say about my stories. The only bad thing about Guests reviewing is that you can't _reply_ to them when they review. And some Guests said a few things I'd like to reply to.

So: the RED Demoman's name is Tavish DeGroot, not the BLU Demoman's name, which is why I took the liberty to give the BLU Demoman some made up name. Same with Sniper: the RED Sniper's last name is Mundy, not the BLU Sniper's last name. Last thing, I know there's a story behind Demoman's lost eye, but I _believe_ that that's the RED Demoman. So that's why I have this story (if one could even call it that) for the BLU one here.

So. Yes. Guests, I love y'all, but sometimes I really do wish I could reply to you guys!


	6. F is for fortress

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

Warning 1: Heigh ho! Bad French ahead! Don't use me as a reference! Most is (hopefully) correct, but bits and pieces could be wrong!

Warning 2: Holy shit, guys. _Guys_. The A/N at the end of this chapter takes the freakin' cake. I'm warning you now. It's long 'cause it's got important stuff in it, but damn, it's _long_. I better get some sort of award for its lengthy-ness… I apologize for it as well, but I _really_ wanted to write it…

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**F** is for _fight. _

"At least I do not use my own body fluids as a weapon!"

"Well those body fluids do a mighty fine job of keepin' spies away! With 'em' gettin' all over yer fancy suits and shit," Sniper jeered. "Wot kinda merc wears a fancy suit ta battle anyway?"

"The one that 'as a sense of fashion," Spy replied nastily. "Something _you_ clearly 'ave no grasp of. And good 'ygiene. You are lacking in zat department as well. _Mon dieu, _when was zhe last time you bathed anyway?"

"Jus' last night! Oh, wait! So sorry, mate," Sniper sarcastically said. "Ya prolly just can't smell too well 'cause of yer _perfume_ ya bloody sprayed all over yourself."

"Eet's called cologne," Spy spat. "Something any dignified man would want to wear."

"Like _you_ know anythin' about being a man."

"Says zhe one who camps 'undreds of feet anyway from 'is target and waits to shoot them from a distance. Glad to know we 'ave such _courageous and brave_ mercenaries like _you _on zhe team."

"Says the sneak who tricks and stabs his enemies in the back! Lull 'em into a false sense a security and then ya stab in the back! Real charmin' and manly. Bet yer family's so proud."

"Actually zey are. Unlike a certain _someone's_ family."

"Ya stinkin' rat! Take that back!"

"No, you filthy jar man!"

"Wine-drinkin' wanka!"

"Uncouth barbarian!"

"Bloody sneak!"

"Lewd imbecile!"

From their seats from the table, Soldier and Pyro watched as Spy and Sniper threw insults back and forth. It would more than likely turn into a fist fight in a few more seconds. The other two BLUs did nothing to stop Spy and Sniper from fighting. No, the two fought like this very often. Instead, the other BLUs made bets as to who would win the fight. "Hey," Soldier said to Pyro. "Ten bucks says Kangaroo Jack wins this fight."

"Mrph onf," Pyro said, shaking hands with Soldier. "Spiff neffeph plff faph."

Unfortunately for Pyro, by the end of the fight he was minus ten bucks.

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**F** is for _fortress._

Engineer and Scout stood outside of their Teufort base, staring at it. It was… something. And not a very good something, either. It was made out of bricks (as opposed to the RED base being made of wood). That was a plus, but apparently the only one. Quite a few bricks had fallen out of place and all looked to be rather aged. The paint was faded. The battlements were just sad. No windows (were there even supposed to be any in the first place?), bullet holes everywhere, and an overhang that appeared to be made out of nothing stronger than tin. Very rusty tin. Scout and Engineer steadily frowned at the base. They then watched as a brick fell out of place and landed as few feet in front of them. They both stared at the fallen brick for a few moments.

Scout finally looked up and over to Engineer, noting, "S'not much of a fortress, is it?"

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**F** is for _fire_.

Pyro loved fire. That was obvious. He loved the way it danced and moved, flickering between the lovely shades of oranges and yellows. It was so pretty and fun to watch. He could watch a candle, campfire, whatever for hours, mesmerized. It never bended or twisted in the same way twice. He loved the sound of it crackling and popping when it ate at wood or anything else flammable. He loved how warm it was. Whenever you were cold, what helped the best? Why fire, of course! Oh, how he loved fire. But you know what he loved most about fire?

Pyro loved how fire would engulf his enemies in a flash, causing them to scream in agony and pain, until they burned to a beautiful death. Yes, that was definitely the best thing about fire.

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**F** is for _flexible. _

Scout was upside-down, standing on his hands. His back was to the wall and his feet lightly touched the wall as well, helping him keep his balance. He stayed like that for a few seconds before gently kicking away from the wall. Flipping over, he easily landed back on his feet and stood straight up. He didn't stay still for long. Scout started to sink to the ground to do the splits. Legs stretched as far as he could get them, Scout leaned to touch his right toes, and after a minute, he moved to touch his left. Once done, he brought his legs back together and got into a crouching position. He then promptly did a back flip. Once done with that, he stood straight again. Scout took a deep breath before reaching down to touch his toes again, bending easily. After the minute, he straitened out and rolled his head and shoulders a bit. Ah, now he felt better.

Scout turned around. He jerked to halt when he noticed nearly all his fellow BLU staring at him. "_What_ are you guys starin' at?" he harshly asked. "I'm jus' stretchin' here."

"That's some, uh," Engineer searched for the right words. "Mighty intense stretchin' yer doin' there, Scout."

Not to Scout. But then again, he did suppose he just worked with a bunch of _old_ guys. "Not really," he snorted. "I'm jus' flexible."

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**F** is for _French_.

"_Je veux fumer_."

"Then go outside and do it."

The BLU team was rather diverse. It had many different mercenaries from many different countries. And those mercenaries spoke a number of different languages. Heavy, aside from speaking Russian and English, could also speak a bit of Polish. Medic, fluent in German and English, could understand a bit of Hungarian and Spanish, but having a conversation was a bit hard for him. Pryo claimed he could also speak Spanish, but it was hard to tell if he was actually speaking it seeing as he wore his mask 24/7 (it was still hard to make out all his _English_ words sometimes). Demoman spoke both Scottish Gaelic and Irish Gaelic. Engineer, Sniper, and Soldier only spoke English (though Engineer claimed he could recognize some Spanish). Spy spoke French, English, Spanish, and knew some Catalan and Russian. Scout was the most surprising of all. The rest of the BLUs all figured he only knew English. Turns out, he knew a good amount of French and spoke it somewhat fluently.

"But I 'ate going outside to smoke," Spy frowned.

"And we _hate_ smellin' your smoke inside," Scout countered.

"_La base a la forme d'une cage_."

"Oh my god," Scout rolled his eyes. "You jus' said you didn't want to go outside to smoke an' now you're sayin' the base is a cage? Make up your freakin' mind!"

"_Je ne veux dejeuner."_

"Uh-huh."

"_Je ne veux travailler."_

"Shocker."

"_Je veux fumer."_

Scout groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "_Je m'en fous!_"

Spy faked a surprised gasp. "Such language, _lapin_."

Scout's head connected with the kitchen table. _"Tais-toi,"_ he mumbled. "Tais-toi."

"What is Spy saying, Scout?" Heavy rumbled from the end of the table, where he had been watching the conversation go on.

Scout looked over at Heavy, taking note of the empty plate in front of the Russian. He rotated his head around to look back towards Spy. He had half a sandwich left on a plate in front of him. Scout grinned, turning to look back towards Heavy. "You know what he said, Heavy?" he said. "He said he wasn't hungry anymore. He said yous could have the rest of his sandwich."

"He did?" Heavy's eyes lit up. "How nice of Spy!"

Spy watched as Heavy snatched the rest of his sandwich and gobbled it up in less than three bites. _"Quelle terrible,"_ he said forlornly before sending an annoyed glare towards Scout.

"_Quoi_?" Scout still grinned. "You're the one who said you didn't want to eat anymore. _Je veux fumer, oui?_ Go do that instead."

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**F** is for _friend. _

Soldier couldn't say he had too many friends, especially outside of BLU. The BLUs, though few, would admit they were friends, more than teammates, with each other. But Soldier knew he had friends in BLU. Engineer was a good friend. He was a good friend to all the BLUs actually, always willing to listen and help. But Engineer always seemed to know what was wrong with Soldier and exactly how to help. Demoman was a good drinking buddy. Soldier and him would often drink together, sharing stories. If he ever needed a good laugh, Demoman was always there. Soldier was probably closest to those two.

Then there was Medic. Their relationship was strange to say the least. The two got on each other's nerves nearly all the time. Whenever the two were together, they were usually arguing, disagreeing, or something along those lines. To Soldier, Medic complained too much, whined too much, and griped at _him_ too much. He didn't use a real gun and didn't heal Soldier near as much as _Soldier _would have liked him to in battle. Medic was too serious too often. He nagged. He pestered. He pointed out flaws. He was Medic.

And he was Soldier's friend. It took Soldier a _real_ long time to realize this, and took Medic even _less _time to deny it. Now, like said, the two argued a lot. It was after a real nasty argument that Soldier realized Medic was his friend. He couldn't really recall what the argument had been about, but he remembered Medic had ended up storming off after Soldier had said something. Soldier couldn't remember what he said, but he did remember Medic didn't talk to him for days. He didn't heal him in battle, no matter how much Soldier needed it. Medic just let him be sent through respawn over and over again. It went on for days. But one day, Medic did heal him. Soldier remembers.

Soldier was in the RED base, slumped against the wall right near the entrance. He was surprised he hadn't been sent through respawn yet. Taking on the RED Demoman and Soldier alone, inside their base had not been smart. He was pretty sure a few somethings were broken and pretty sure he was bleeding… all over. Ah, well. He'd bleed out in and be sent to respawn in a minute. Soldier looked up when he heard footsteps.

Heavy was trudging towards him with Medic close behind. Pyro was behind Medic. Heavy slowed down once he caught sight of Soldier. "Soldier!"

"Slldurf, yun oknf?" Pyro asked, stopping as well.

Medic stopped next to Heavy, saying nothing.

Soldier managed to grin up at his teammates. It faltered when he glanced at Medic. "I'll be fine," he tried to wave them away. "I'll prolly be sent through respawn here in a minute. Lost a lot of blood. Move along, men."

Pyro shifted uneasily before staring pointedly at Medic.

Heavy looked unsure and glanced to Medic as well. He was well aware they had fought. The whole BLU team was actually…

"What are you waiting for? Move!"

Heavy looked back at Soldier. After a moment, he nodded. The Russian started towards the RED courtyard.

Pyro hesitated, but followed Heavy, glancing back at Soldier a few times.

Medic slowly followed.

"The RED Soldier and Demoman are guarding their Intel!" Soldier yelled back at them. "Clear the way so Scout can get the Intel or something!"

"_Da_!" Heavy yelled back.

"Hudda-hudda!"

Soldier leaned his head back and closed his eyes, grunting. With those three headed for the Intel, getting it should be easy. Now if only he'd be sent to respawn already… His gut hurt like a bi-

"_Dummkopf_."

Soldier looked up.

Medic was standing in front of him, frowning. "Vhy didn't you call for me sooner?" He pointed his Medi Gun at his teammate and activated it.

Soldier felt better as soon as the healing beam hit him. "What?" He looked back towards the entrance of the RED courtyard. Heavy and Pyro were no where to be seen.

"I told zem to go after zhe Intel. Zey will be fine," Medic waved it off. "You vill be fine in a moment as vell."

Soldier felt a hundred times better already. He stood up straighter and adjusted his grip on his Rocket Launcher. "Why didn't you go with 'em?"

Medic was silent for a few moments. "You vere injured," he said tersely.

"That hasn't seemed to bother you these past four days," Soldier grumbled. He regretted saying those words as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn't want to start arguing _here._

Medic's face was unreadable. He adjusted his grip on his Medi Gun, looking down at it, left to right (as if checking for enemies), and basically anything but Soldier. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally saying, "Zat was…" Medic struggled for the right words. "Unprofessional on my side. I apologi-"

"Don't," Soldier cut him off.

Medic looked at him in confusion.

"I mean, don't apologize," Soldier went on. "I know why you avoided me. You had every right to. I… said some things I shouldn't have earlier this week."

Medic just blinked, still saying nothing.

"Look, I'm sorry. Can't even remember why we started arguin' anyway."

"You made a lovely comment about my accent, one of my hats, and my syringe gun all in one sentence."

"Uh, right," Soldier coughed awkwardly. "Like I said, sorry…"

"I vasn't exactly very civil either," Medic admitted. "I am sorry as vell. I know I should have-"

"Hold that thought, doc," Soldier suddenly pulled out his shovel. He reached forward and shoved Medic aside with his other hand. He swung the shovel at supposed empty air, but it connected with something seemingly invisible. The RED Spy materialized into view, but fell to the floor, dead.

Medic raised his eyebrows, impressed. "How did you know he vas there?"

"Saw dust 'n' dirt on the ground get disturbed," Soldier shrugged, trading his shovel for his Rocket Launcher. "But, yeah. Sorry for everything. It's alright if you still don't wanna heal me and-"

"You didn't let me finish vhat I vas saying before," Medic interrupted. "I vill still heal you. I heal all my teammates. Some more zan other, yes, but I heal zem all. I vill still heal you, Soldier, even when I'm mad at you. Vell, staring now anyvay. You are my teammate, no matter how annoying you are. Or how loud you are. Or oblivious. Or-"

"Is that your way of saying you like me?"

"I said you are my teammate," Medic snorted. "Nothing about actually _liking_ you."

"Heavy's your teammate, too," Soldier pointed out. "You like him."

Medic frowned. "Vell he is likeable," he said.

"I'm likeable," Soldier crossed his arms.

Medic sighed before saying, "_Ja_, at times, I suppose." They shouldn't just be standing here. They had a team they needed to help.

"So you do like me?"

"I vould like you more right now if ve vere helping our team."

"Sure thing, Sally," Soldier grinned as he reloaded his Rocket Launcher. "You want me to escort ya back to Heavy 'n' Pyro?"

Medic rolled his eyes. "Actually, zhe RED Engineer had a sentry nest in our sewers. I vas thinking ve should take care of it," Medic said. "I am fully charged…"

"Let's do it, Nancy!"

"Call me another female name and I von't help you."

Soldier still just grinned and headed for the sewers, Medic close behind.

Soldier remembers that day. Whenever he and Medic have a fight, he remembers it. It reminds Soldier that no matter how much they argue, disagree, or anything along those lines, that Medic was his friend. Neither vocalized or admitted they were, but Soldier knew they were. No matter how much Medic denied it.

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**F** is for _frying pan_.

"Gee," Scout looked at the frying pan in his hand and then down to the dead RED Soldier at his feet. "I don't know _what_ the RED Soldier was talkin' about. This frying pan makes a _great_ weapon."

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A/N: This chapter is brought to you by the letter H. H is for headcanon. As in, I have a crap ton of headcanon in this chapter.

Ahem. Scout is flexible. Obviously, he's the youngest on the team. I figure he's already tons more flexible than the other older members. I just made him seem even more flexible. I was aiming for, like, gymnastics flexible. I also had him understand and speak French. The other members got a little extra language knowledge as well (but the main focus was on Scout and all). I dunno why I did that. I just wrote it. And then there's Soldier and Medic. Those two. I could always just imagine those two going at each others' throats. Always arguing, fighting, something. Just not getting along. But deep down, they're both friends and they work well together.

If anyone out there could look over my French and tell me if it's correct, that'd be most appreciated as well! It's been well over a year since I've spoken or written it.

_**And**_as if this Author's Note couldn't get any longer, I must admit I have one more thing to bring up. I just feel the need to respond to this (and I really _want_ to). It's gonna be _long_ here, folks, so feel free to stop reading this part of the A/N if you don't wanna. Seriously. _I completely understand._

Alright, so a Guest asked me this question: Am I using OCs? I've given names to some of the BLUs and different characteristics than what they have in-game, _but_ I've also kept some of their names and characteristics (Engineer and Soldier's names, for example). So are they OCs or what?

My answer? Yes and no.

I'll explain as best I can. I assume my readers have a nice amount of video game knowledge, so I'm going to use this example: let's take a Pikachu from Pokémon. It's a creature of someone else's design. But let's change this Pikachu a little: give it green eyes instead of black, give it a scar on its tail, birthmark under its left eye, and name it Leaf. I have just given my Pikachu different characteristics from what its original design is. Is it an OC?

To me specifically, no. An OC, or Original (or Other) Character, is a character created by the writer that does not appear in the actual game/book/show/whatever. But I believe an OC can be a character someone designs for their own world, comic, story, creation, or whatever. A character they've created and never put into any published fandom before. That is what I believe an OC is; an original character someone designs that can have a world of their own or be placed in an already existing one (i.e. a game, movie, book, etc).

But are the BLUs I gave characteristics and names to OCs? Again, to me, not really. Their basic design belongs to someone else (Valve). But the Team Fortress universe is so different. The characters Valve created are incomplete. Not everyone's name is known, not everyone's hair or eye color is known, and there has to be more to their personalities, right? These characters Valve gave us are so moldable. The "Meet the…" videos are mostly about the REDs, but what about the BLUs? Sure, we know about Dell and Jane, but what about the others? Heck, not even everything is known about the REDs! There has to be more, right? Sadly, it isn't so (well, for now anyways...).

So FanFic writers like me try to fill in those gaps. They're putty in our hands. While keeping their basic designs (already given names and traits hopefully still present, of course), we can give them other characteristics or traits that we see or imagine them having. Give them more personality, if I may. And maybe that's what Valve has been trying to do all along. They give us these basic characters that all look the same. Then they offer different hats, weapons, and other miscellaneous items to us. They're basically saying: "Okay, here's your outline, now make your own character out of all this we're offering you!" It's great! And that's kind of what fanfiction and fanfics are as well. Writers' interpretation of the characters (i.e. here's a bit about this character, but let's see what else you think this guy could have or do…).

I'm getting a bit off topic here so let me wrap it up. An OC is an original character someone creates that can have their own world or be inserted into another, already created world. To me specifically and when we're talking about the TF2 universe here, I believe an OC is a character not in the game. Like a tenth class or some other random person the author dropped in the story. But the BLUs I gave names and extra characteristics to? I don't know what to call them, but to me, they're not OCs. I didn't create their basic design, so they're not "original characters". I just added on and maybe changed a small detail or two of these wonderful, moldable characters. Still, because of those small add-ons and details, I do feel entitled that I've created some sort of character. Not "original" per se, but something. So I'd be a little miffed if someone took the name Feliks Novosi and his characteristics or Oliver Cromwell and his characteristics and applied those to their Heavy or Scout.

All in all, are they OCs? Kind of. Because these are incomplete, exceptionally moldable characters Valve supplied us with in the TF2 universe, fans can do a lot with them. But that's kind of one of the best parts of it all. So there you have it. To the Guest who asked this, I hope this ridiculously long A/N answers your question!


	7. G is for golf

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**G** is for _golf_.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Scout asked warily.

"'Course it is!"

"But, Demo," Scout looked at the object in Demoman's hands. "You're gonna golf with a _grenade_."

Demoman grinned as he balanced the grenade on the tee. "Sure am!"

"Why don't ya, I dunno, use a _golf_ ball?"

"Don't have one."

Scout gaped. Then managed to ask, "But what if it explodes when ya hit it?"

"Pffft, it won't do that," Demoman snorted. He sidled next to the tee with the grenade on it. He lowered his Nessie's Nine Iron next to the grenade, moving the golf club like he was going to hit it a few times. "Hasn't ever done tha' before."

"_Before_," Scout repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Ye sure you don't wanna join, Scoot? Golf's a great game."

"Uh, no. Too slow for me. It's one-a the most boring sports ever," Scout snorted.

"Don't be bashin' me favorite game, boyo. I've _more_ grenades ye know. I could actually use one of 'em on ya instead of it usin' it as a golf ball."

Scout ignored the minor threat. "I wouldn't even join ya even if I liked the game anyways," he said. "'Cause, ya know, you're usin' a grenade as a golf ball," Scout scoffed, heading back for the base.

"Your loss, boyo," Demoman said as the Bostonian left. He looked back at the tee and grenade. He adjusted his grip on his Nessie's Nine Iron. Then he swung.

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**G** is for _grimace. _

"Myeh, Engiphf," Pyro called to Engineer. "Lokkf mph Mie dnff!"

Engineer could only grimace.

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**G** is for _gun_.

"It is a real gun."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not!"

"I am not having zis argument vith you, Soldier," Medic groaned.

"You're just saying that because you know it's true," Soldier insisted. "Your syringe gun isn't a real gun at all!"

"It is a real gun!" Medic shot back. "I have killed plenty of REDs vith it!"

"And you've killed REDs with your Bonesaw, too!" Soldier argued. "Just because you've killed someone with it before, doesn't mean it's a real gun!"

"_You_ probably couldn't even give a decent definition of a gun," Medic spat.

"Sure I can," Soldier huffed. "A gun is a weapon that shoots bullets, not _needles_."

"Just because it shoots needles does not mean it's not a gun!"

"It's not a gun!"

A small cough caused Soldier and Medic to turn their heads. Heavy stood a few feet away, holding a small book. Looking down at the book, he cleared his throat before reading, "Gun. Weapon incorporating metal tube from vhich bullets, shells, or missiles are propelled by explosive force. Gun."

Medic and Soldier stared. "Heavy," Medic asked after a moment. "Vhy are you carrying a dictionary around?"

"Do not understand some English words at times," Heavy said as he pocketed the small dictionary. "Carry Russian/English dictionary around to help when confused with words."

"Ah."

Soldier made no comment to Heavy, instead turning back to Medic to gloat, "Said nothing about shooting _needles_ in that definition! Your syringe gun still ain't a real gun, Sally!"

"Arrrrgh!"

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**G** is for _guitar._

Engineer had a guitar. He usually played it whenever he wasn't tinkering with something in his shop or fixing something one of his teammates broke (both of which happened very often). Still, between fixing, tinkering, and battles, Engineer always found time to play. His teammates knew he played and some would stop by whenever they happened to hear him playing. Pyro always seemed to enjoy it, stopping to listen whenever he heard the guitar. Sometimes he even requested Engineer play just so he could listen. Scout appeared to like it, too. Engineer often suspected the Bostonian had some musical knowledge, for occasionally Scout would ask him if he knew a specific song or tell him a few notes were off. Engineer knew Medic had a violin. The Texan told Medic if he ever wanted to join in as he played, the doctor was welcome to.

There was one team member who had yet to ever hear Engineer play his guitar. That was soon solved, though. For Engineer currently sat outside the base, on a crate, strumming his guitar. Sniper sat in a nearly broken chair a few feet away, feet kicked up on a crate and hat over his eyes. Engineer was pretty sure he was asleep. That was fine, though. Sniper had heard him play plenty. The snoozing cat curled against the Texan, however, hadn't. As soon as he came out here to play, Lyra joined him with Sniper. Seeing as they were both asleep, though, Engineer figured he had better stop playing...

Engineer stopped playing, shifting his guitar. He made to stand up, but a sudden, irritated sound stopped him.

A loud meow.

Engineer looked down to his side. Lyra was lying on the crate, leaning against Engineer. She had been sleeping, but was now staring at him. Lyra meowed again.

"Sorry, Miss Lyra," Engineer grinned. "Did I wake ya?"

Lyra just continued staring.

"You know," Engineer said to the cat. "I used to know this great song I used ta play to my daughter to get her ta go ta sleep. Wanna hear it?" He hadn't even really wanted to stop playing anyways…

Lyra's right ear twitched.

"I'll take that as a yes," Engineer said as he positioned his guitar again.

Lyra laid her head back down and closed her eyes, but her ears remained perked. Engineer hoped that meant she liked listening.

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**G **is for _gash. _

The RED Demoman rushed forward, Eyelander raised. Heavy tried to move to the right to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough. A large gash across his left arm was what he earned for his slowness. He bellowed in fury, not pain, for as soon as the RED slashed Heavy, he changed course for Medic. Medic immediately backtracked, quickly trying to swap his Medi Gun for his syringe gun. He did so just in time, also managing to dodge the RED Demoman as well. The same time Medic opened fire at the RED, Heavy's gun roared. Bullets and needles alike tore through the RED Demoman's body. Having no chance to counterattack, the RED was soon dead. Satisfied, both Heavy and Medic lowered their weapons.

Heavy lowered his Minigun to the ground carefully before slumping against a nearby wall.

Medic noticed this immediately, running back over to Heavy. "Let me see," he said as soon as he stopped next to the Russian.

"Is just scratch," Heavy said, grinning faintly.

"Huge gash is more like it," Medic snorted, pulling his Medi Gun back out. "Do not vorry, though. Zere von't be much of a gash in a moment."

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**G** is for _glove_.

"I just don't see how it's considered a hat," Scout said, staring at Pyro's Respectless Rubber Glove. "It just looks like he took one-a Engie's gloves and put it on his head!"

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A/N: Ugh, G. Why so difficult?


	8. H is for help

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**H** is for _hat_.

"That has gotta be," Scout gaped at Sniper's Anger hat that he was currently wearing. "The freakin' creepiest hat I've ever seen."

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**H** is for _help_.

Scout woke with a start. Something wasn't right. He glanced around the room. It wasn't his room. No, Scout was in one of the infirmary's beds. That wasn't r- oh, wait. That _was_ right. He had injured his ankle earlier that night. Of course, with his luck being so wonderful and all, both of Medic's Medi Guns decided to malfunction. Because he had injured himself so late into the night (a little past midnight wasn't too bad, right?), it had been decided the Medi Guns would be fixed early the next morning before the match. This meant Scout's ankle wouldn't be healed until the next morning (uselessly respawning themselves was greatly, err, _frowned upon_ by the Administrator). Scout was fine with that. With an ice pack and his ankle propped up, Scout's ankle didn't hurt too badly. He just wished Medic hadn't forced him to sleep in the infirmary. It was a very big and eerie room, especially at night.

Scout sighed. He was about to bury himself further beneath the blankets, but stopped when he heard a meow. He glanced down at the foot of his infirmary bed.

Lyra had managed to sneak into the infirmary to sleep with Scout (she always slept with him). She was nestled next to his uninjured left leg. Through the darkness, Scout could see her looking towards the infirmary door.

Scout figured he had woken her up. "Go back to sleep, Lyra," he said simply. He was about to lay his head back on his pillow and close his eyes, but a hiss from Lyra stopped him. Scout quickly sat back up, staring at the cat.

Lyra was now standing up, back arched and fur standing on end. She still wasn't looking at Scout. Her eyes were trained on the door.

"Lyra, what's wrong?" Scout reached over to a small bedside table where a lamp sat. He flicked it on, illuminating the infirmary. He glanced around the now dimly lit room. "Nothin's there, Lyra," Scout said very unconvincingly.

Lyra finally turned to look at Scout. Her look said it all: _yeah, right_.

Scout raised an eyebrow at the cat.

Lyra looked away from him. Staring at the door once more, she then let out a long, drawn-out meow that slowly turned into a hiss.

Scout couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed an empty cup from the bedside table and launched it towards the door.

At the half-way point between the door and his bed, the cup Scout threw hit something seemingly invisible and clattered to the ground.

Scout and Lyra both tensed as the RED Spy materialized into view, a smirk on his face. "Ah, _j'ai trouve une petite chat et un petit lapin_," he sneered.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Scout narrowed his eyes at the RED. He pushed all his blankets away, poising for flight. His ankle suddenly throbbed, reminding him that flight might not be easy.

"Wouldn't you like to know," The RED Spy said, smirk growing as he took a step forward.

"Get out!" Scout spat at him. He wished he was in his own bed. He always slept with his bat nearby.

"Not until I get what I came for," the RED Spy said. "I came 'ere intending to take your Medic," he informed almost casually. "But _you'll_ do as well." The RED Spy lunged for him.

Scout dove for the right and Lyra sprang off the bed in the opposite direction. Scout's ankle immediately stared screaming in protest at the sudden movement. Unable to really stand on it, Scout found he had to lean against the nearby wall just to stay standing.

The RED Spy's grin was terrifying. "Oh, you're injured. You are going to make zis _too_ easy, _petit lapin_," he said, looming over Scout.

Scout inwardly cursed. Swallowing his pride, he did the one thing he knew would cause his ankle as little pain as possible. Scout let out a loud shriek of "HELP-"

With a snarl, the RED Spy clamped his hand over Scout's mouth, cutting him off.

Scout tried to pry the hand away with one hand and punch the RED with his other.

The RED Spy simply caught the clenched fist before it could hit him. The hand covering Scout's mouth then gave a harsh squeeze, causing the him to let out a muffled squeal of pain. "You are going to p- Aauugh!" The RED interrupted himself with a yell, ripping away from Scout.

The RED Spy wasn't the only one wailing. Lyra was _caterwauling_. Scout hadn't seen her do it, but she had launched herself at the RED Spy's leg, which she clung onto with sharp claws. She went between her battle cry and biting the RED's leg.

Still screaming, the RED Spy tried to shake the cat off his leg, but Lyra wouldn't let go. "Get off, you stupid animal!" The RED reached down and grabbed her by the head, pried her off his leg, and promptly threw the cat across the room.

"Lyra!" Scout shouted.

Luckily, Lyra didn't collide with the wall or anything. She did one of the things cats did best: land on all four feet. And right after landing, she went back for seconds. But she didn't aim for the RED's bloody leg again, no. Lyra jumped for the RED Spy's head.

"Augh!" The RED Spy started yelling again as the cat attached herself to his head, claws digging into his balaclava and scalp. He reached up, grabbed her, and tried to pry her off again, but Lyra didn't let go.

As both the RED Spy and Lyra continued wailing, the infirmary door flew open. "Vhat is going on in here?" Medic was met with the sight of the RED Spy screaming and dancing around with Lyra gripping his head. He gasped, "Spy!"

"Doc!" Scout shouted, still leaning against the wall, peered around the wailing RED and cat. "Uh, little help?" he called.

Medic glanced between Scout and the RED and cat. "_Ja,_" he said a moment later. He raced over to a cabinet. Inside it was one of his syringe guns. Hastily, Medic loaded it with some syringes from the cabinet. Once it was locked and loaded, Medic shot at the RED Spy. Four needles plunged into his side.

The RED Spy turned to face Medic, probably to go attack him, but started to sway instead.

With a final hiss, Lyra jumped off the RED's head and scurried over to Scout.

As soon as she reached Scout, the RED Spy fell to the ground, unconscious.

Medic and Scout just stared for a moment. "Those aren't your normal needles, are they?" Scout eventually asked, breaking the silence. His eyes were wide. "They knocked him out real fast."

"_Nein_," Medic replied, setting his syringe gun on a counter. "I drugged him," he said as he walked over to the RED and kicked him in the side.

The RED Spy didn't move.

"Oops," Medic grinned. "I think I overdosed him! My bad!"

"Hey, no worries there, doc," Scout grinned back as he slid down the wall to sit down. His ankle was screaming at him, but he did his best to ignore it. Scout suddenly glanced at Lyra, who as soon as he had sat down, jumped into his lap. "Thanks for the help, Lyra. You're one wicked cat."

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**H** is for _Heavy_.

Sometimes Heavy was just too big. His size never bothered him, but the other BLUs? Soldier thought it was useful in battle. Spy surely thought being that size was unhealthy. Sniper didn't give a damn and his thought on Heavy's size was mirrored by the rest of the BLUs. Well, save for Scout and Medic. At the moment, they both had some choice words for Heavy's size. The three of them were currently in the vents of Turbine, RED side. Now the vents of Turbine may be helpfully bigger than normal vents, but that didn't men they were exceptionally comfortable to walk through. Heavy, Medic, and Scout stalked through the vents, getting closer and closer to the exit that would lead them to the RED resupply room. The plan was for Heavy and Medic to distract the REDs, while Scout made a getaway for the Intel.

"Stop," Heavy, who was leading the three, suddenly said as he halted.

Medic nearly bumped into him. "Vhat is it, Heavy?"

"Hear something," Heavy answered, aiming his Mini Gun in front of him. "Something coming this way."

Medic tried to look past Heavy's shoulders. "I don't hear anything, let alone see anything," he grumbled. He stood to his tiptoes, still trying to look over Heavy. The doctor placed his hands on Heavy's right shoulder, pushing down slightly. The shoulder dropped, relaxing slightly, giving the German more room to see. Leaning against Heavy's back and peering over his right shoulder, Medic still didn't see anything. "I still don't see anything. Or hear anything."

"What? What's there?" Scout asked from behind the two. "I wanna see!" He tried looking over Heavy's broad frame, but was facing the same dilemma as Medic. Scout jumped a few times, but the brief view wasn't very satisfying. He tried doing what Medic was doing, but even as he stood on his tiptoes, he still couldn't see over Heavy. Scout huffed before taking more drastic actions. He launched himself up to Heavy's left shoulder. The Russian didn't even flinch. Scout was now bent over Heavy's shoulder, supported by his arms, and with his lower body dangling behind. His feet weren't even touching the ground. As Scout hung over the Russian's shoulder, he stared. "I don't see nothin'! I though ya said Heavy saw somethin'."

"_Nein_, I said he heard something!"

"Well I don't hear anythin' either."

"Vell Heavy said he heard something."

"He's prolly jus' being paranoid."

"Ve're in zhe enemy's vents! He has a good reason to be!"

"Aw, you guys are jus-"

"Quiet!" Heavy shushed the two. "Someone is coming."

Medic and Scout both snapped their mouth's shut, but stayed glued to Heavy. Their mouths didn't stay shut for long, however. For what they saw approaching them gave them plenty of reason to open their mouths once more.

"Oh no…" Heavy gaped, eyes wide.

"Retreat!" Medic yelped, finally tearing away from Heavy to run in the opposite direction and out of the vents.

"Let's go, man!" Scout chose to stay perched on Heavy's shoulder as the larger man turned to retreat out of the vents as well. "Freakin' go, go, go!" Scout shrieked, trying to stay balanced on the shoulder.

To the three BLU's purser, it didn't matter what size Heavy was. For nothing could elude a SpyCrab.

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**H** is for _Horseless Headless Horsemann_.

The Horseless Headless Horsemann _hated_ to admit it, but he did favor one team over the other. Don't get him wrong, he loved killing both RED and BLU, but sometimes one team was just _more _fun to kill. That team happened to be the BLUs. The REDs always never did anything but shoot him. Yeah, that's kind of the point, but the BLUs didn't _just _shoot him. They came up with plans to kill him as quickly as possible so they could go back to point capping. There was this one time where the BLU Scout led him around a corner to the front of Mann Manor, where a fully charged Heavy and Medic duo and Level 3 sentry were waiting for him. Then there was that one time the BLU Pyro was able to air blast a _ton_ of the RED Demoman's sticky bombs into his face. Or the time the BLU Soldier pushed an almost fully charged BLU Medic out of the way to avoid being killed by the monster. Yes, the BLU team always seemed to plan ways to kill him, like they were doing now.

"Alright," Soldier informed a few on his teammates. "The Horseless Headless Horsemann just appeared near the second control point. Any suggestions on how we take him down?"

"Mmefd," Pyrp piped up. "Ynf fuphl chnpfdd?"

"_Nein_, I am not," Medic frowned. "Zhe RED Demoman killed me just before zhe Horseless Headless Horsemann appeared."

Soldier frowned as well. "Scout's at the second control point, trying to cap it in all the chaos," he said to Heavy and Medic. "You two go and help him."

Heavy and Medic shuffled away from the first control point.

Soldier caught sight of another teammate approaching. "Engie!"

"What 'cha need, Sol?" Engineer said as he walked up to the small group.

"Build a sentry here a couple feet away from the point," Soldier commanded. "Got a plan to put into action!"

"What is it?" Demoman asked, watching as Engineer stared to build a sentry.

"Engie's gonna build a sentry," Soldier started to explain. "Demoman, I want you to place bombs in front of it. Pyro, Scout's busy tryin' to cap, so I need you to lure the monster here. As soon as the Horseless Headless Horsemann rounds the corner, he'll be assaulted by a sentry, bombs, and my rockets!"

"Mph!"

"And Pyro's fire," Soldier said. "If he lives," he muttered to himself.

"Sounds good ta me," Demoman said as he started placing sticky bombs in front of Engineer's sentry.

"Nff thph?" Pyro said, taking a small step away from the group.

"Yep, go ahead!" Engineer answered. "Just finished mah sentry!"

"Move out!" Soldier said as well.

"Wait! What about me? What should I do?"

Soldier, Engineer, Demoman, and Pyro all turned around. The Horseless Headless Horsemann was standing there, large axe resting on his shoulder and grin across his face. How he got there, none of the mercenaries would know. They were more concerned how their plan was ever going to work now. The sentry beeped and turned around to shoot the monster.

Grinning, the Horseless Headless Horsemann took care of it with a single swing from his axe. Demoman tried detonating his bombs, but they were too far away to do any damage. So the four BLUs settled for screaming and simply shooting at the monster.

Sometimes, the plans the BLUs made didn't work out too well. Whether they worked or not didn't matter to the Horseless Headless Horsemann. He was just having a good time.

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**H** is for _harmonica_.

Spy walked back into the base, intent on going to the kitchen. The rest of the BLU team was outside at the back of the base. Engineer had stared some of his amazing barbeque. The team always loved Engineer's barbeques. They'd sit out back, drinking, eating, talking, and just having a good time. Despite his teammates thinking he wouldn't join them, Spy always did. The meat wasn't gourmet, but it did have a certain zing to it. Now he wouldn't drink their beer. That wasn't something he ever planned to do. Spy always preferred his wine, which is why he was headed for the kitchen to get some more.

Once he was in the kitchen, Spy made a beeline for the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of wine and poured some into his glass. Once his glass was full and the bottle back in the fridge, Spy started to head back to the rest of the team. He almost didn't notice it. He did, though. Right as he was about to step out the kitchen, Spy stopped. He heard something. Something he hadn't heard in a long time. Music. He heard music. No, wait. It was a lone instrument playing. He couldn't identify what it was, though. That wasn't his main thought, though. Spy was wondering _who_ was playing an instrument. He thought Engineer and Medic were the only ones who could play an instrument. Evidentially not. But wasn't everyone outside enjoying the barbeque? Who was-

Scout. Spy remembered now. The Bostonian had eaten little and left, saying he was tired or something. Apparently he wasn't tired, but wanted to play. But what? As he stood there, listening, Spy still couldn't identify the instrument he was hearing. Curiosity gnawing at him, Spy decided to go investigate. Leaving his wine in the kitchen, Spy made his way to Scout's room, where the music was coming from. It got louder and louder as Spy approached. He paused outside of Scout's door, just listening for a few moments. Then he simply opened the door.

Scout, who was lying on his stomach on his bed, quickly stopped playing whatever instrument he was playing. He then smacked it against the bed and covered it with his hands so fast Spy couldn't get a glimpse of it. "What the hell?!" Scout shrieked, sitting up a bit. "Haven't yous eveah heard-a knockin'?!"

Oh, he was mad. His Bostonian accent was more apparent in his speech. Spy just smiled back at the furious Scout. "Knocking is overrated," he said.

"Fuck you."

"Language, _lapin_," Spy said, smile only growing.

"Get lost!" Scout pointed to the door.

"What were you playing?"

"I said get lost!"

Instead, Spy shut the door behind him.

Scout gaped before groaning, "Ugh! Spies!" He flopped back down face first onto his bed. He started muffling insults into his blankets.

Spy took that as an invitation to sit down. He walked over to the desk, pulling out a chair to sit down. As he crossed his legs, he stared at the unmoving Scout. "What were you playing?" Spy repeated after a moment.

Scout said nothing.

"I'm not going to be leaving anytime soon."

Scout twitched. He moved his head, but turned his face away from Spy. "None-a your business," he snapped.

Spy blinked. "Eet sounded familiar," Spy informed the other. "Zhe sound reminded me of an accordion. What was eet?"

Scout didn't reply.

"Well, if you don't show me now, I suppose I could always sneak in later while you're eating to 'ave a little look-see…"

Scout gave another exaggerated groan. "Fuckin' Spies!" he cursed before burying his face back into his blankets. But after a moment, his hands started to slowly move. A moment later, they revealed a small instrument in Scout's hands. A harmonica.

"A 'armonica?" Spy raised his eyebrows in surprise, dropping his smile. "'ow long 'ave you played?"

Scout lifted his head again, this time to glare at Spy. "None-a your business!" he snapped again. He covered the harmonica again as well.

"What _are _you getting so defensive for?" Spy finally asked.

Scout didn't reply, just kept his steady glare up.

Then Spy saw it, the faint blush on Scout's cheeks. Ah, that was it. He was embarrassed. Spy smirked, deciding to make it worse. "Well, I don't know 'ow long you 'ave played, _lapin_, but eet sounded nice. _Trés bein_."

In the blink of an eye, Scout's glare disappeared and a confused look took its place. The red on his cheeks expanded before he tried to sputter out an insult. He couldn't and instead angrily looked away from the other.

Now, Spy wasn't lying. From what he heard before he interrupted, did sound nice. He guessed Scout had been playing the harmonica for a while now. Scout probably wouldn't tell him much more now, though. But maybe he would do something else. "Will you play something?"

Scout snapped his head to look back at Spy. "_What_?"

"Play something."

Scout stared at Spy, looked down at his harmonica, and then back at Spy again. "You barge into my room uninvited, ask me a bunch-a questions, and then expect me to _play_ something for you?"

"_Oui_."

Scout started for a few moments. Eventually, he asked, "Why?"

"Because I want to 'ear you play," Spy said simply. He motioned to the harmonica in Scout's hands. "Will you?"

Scout blinked, looking down at the harmonica. He looked at Spy warily for a brief moment. Finally, he raised the harmonica to his lips and started to play.

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**H** is for _Holy Mackerel_.

Scout whacked the RED Soldier right in the face with his Holy Mackerel, causing him to fall to the ground, dead. "Tell me another one of my weapons ain't good!" Scout taunted. "I _dare_ ya."

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A/N: I am so sorry. The Heavy one was just… I don't know. I really don't. I couldn't think of anything for that one. I just wanted to write that scene with the Heavy, Medic, and Scout. That one also (obviously) took place in Turbine. If I don't state it, then normally in all of these the setting will take place in Teufort.

Ah, the Horseless Headless Horsemann. I do love him. Shame his visits are so short ;A;

And then there's hats. Oh, hats. The first time I saw Sniper's Anger hat thing, I was a tad set off, but the more I saw it, the more I thought it looked cool. What's your favorite hat? Do tell in a review! My favorite has gotta be the Crone's Dome.


	9. I is for illegal

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**I** is for _illegal_.

"Demo," Engineer gaped. "That's illegal in all of Europe, half of Asia, and 49 out of the 50 United States!"

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**I** is for _It_.

Medic ran into the attic of Mann Manor, right above the third control point, glancing behind himself every few seconds. He was so busy glancing behind himself, he bumped into something. Or someone.

"Easy there, cupcake," Soldier, who Medic had ever so gracefully ran into, looked at his fellow BLU. "What 'cha running from?"

"Vhat do you think?" Medic replied sharply.

"Uh… the RED Spy?'

"The Horseless Headless Horsemann," Sniper supplied helpfully from nearby.

Soldier frowned, taking a step back. "You're not It, are you?"

"No," Medic said. "Zhe RED Soldier is. Or at least he vas last I saw. He kept trying to hit me vith his shovel, so I came up here to avoid him."

"Where'd you last see the Horseless Headless Horsemann?"

"Oh, he's crashing around zhe bottom floor and zhe control point."

"You bet he is," Sniper agreed. He was looking through the scope of his rifle. "I've seen Scout tryin' ta cap the point a few times, but a few of the REDs or the monster're scarin' 'im off every time he tries."

"How many REDs are there?" Soldier asked.

"Not many," Sniper said, still looking. "A few of 'em are bein' sent through respwan while the others're tryin' ta take on the Horseless Headless Horsemann jus' so _they_ can be sent through respwan again."

"And our guys?"

"Eh, same thing."

"So, vhat?" Medic asked. "Ve just vait here until zhe Horseless Headless Horsemann leaves?"

"I say we cap the point!" Soldier decided. "The REDs are preoccupied with the monster, so now's the perfect time!"

"Zhe rest of _our_ team is also occupied vith running from zhe Horseless Headless Horsemann," Medic pointed out.

"Well there's three of us here!" Soldier went on. "We could do it!"

"The REDs'll stop payin' attention to the bloody monster once we go down there. They'll start goin' after us immediately," Sniper argued, finally looking at the other two BLUs. "'sides, there'll be a greater chance of becomin' a target for the Horseless Headless Horsemann once we go down there."

"What are you, scared?" Soldier taunted. "'Cause you actually have to fight face to face, than from afar with your little rifle?"

"No!" Sniper shot back. "I jus' don't wanna go down there only ta die right away and not to a bit 'a good fer the team!"

"Pfft, yeah, right!"

"Ugh," Medic groaned. "Don't start zis now, you two."

"Look, you wanna charge down there without thinkin', be my guest! S'not like _you_ could come up with a better plan anyway."

"My plans are brilliant! You just can't follow them right!"

"We're a team, mate. And you're not our leader, so we don't hafta follow ya. We agree to our own terms of fightin' and agree on attack plans. _Not_ follow your every wacky idea."

"They're not wacky!"

"They're not bloody good, that's for sure."

"Why, you-"

"Ahem."

Sniper, Soldier, and Medic all whipped around when they heard someone behind them. Oddly enough, it was the RED Spy standing there. Why had he let his presence be known so easily? Three against one wasn't good odds at all…

Soldier pointed his Rocket Launcher right at the RED's face without really wondering or caring about that. "You have three seconds to run before I start shooting, Frenchie."

"Of course," the RED Spy said in understanding, holding one of hid hands up. "But first-" And then the RED Spy suddenly shot his other arm, which in his hand held a knife, forward to nick Sniper in the arm.

Sniper jolted back, but kept his Submachine Gun aimed at the RED. "You f-" he suddenly interrupted himself with a gasp. A feeling of dread had spread throughout his body. "You bloody bastard," Sniper glared at the RED Spy. "You were It, weren't you?"

"Not anymore," the RED Spy said, grinning. Then, before the BLUs could react, he cloaked, disappearing.

Soldier fired at few rockets randomly, but none of them hit anything. Growling, he turned back around to face his teammates.

Medic was taking steps away from Sniper. "Sniper," he said slowly. "You are It."

"I bloody noticed, doc!"

"You know, Sniper, you were right," Soldier suddenly said. "My first plan wasn't very good. I got a new plan now." Soldier looked at Medic. "Run."

"Good plan!" Medic agreed and ran out of the attic.

"Good luck, Sniper!" Soldier saluted the Australian. "Have fun!" And with that, Soldier ran out the attic to follow Medic.

Sniper stared after his running teammates. Then he heard a wail and the sound of large feet stomping, coming closer and closer. The Horseless Headless Horseman. Pulling out his Kukri, Sniper groaned, "I'm bloody _It_."

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**I** is for _interfere_.

Sniper was a patient man. It took a lot to get him angry. But, oh, when you did, you had better watch out. He might spit some nasty insults and yell, which he rarely did. He only did when he was mad. Or he would sulk by himself. Most of the time, though, he would shoot targets with his rifle or Huntsman. Imagining someone else's head instead of a target always helped cool his anger. But there was one other thing. Whenever Sniper was mad and getting bull's eyes on some targets to cool off, one should not, under any circumstance, interfere with his shooting. Sniper would only get worse. If one interrupted his shooting that was usually when he would give some nasty insults and yell. Most of the BLUs could pick up on his want to be alone when he was made and shooting. Scout, on the other hand, had to learn from experience.

Sniper was outside, near the back of the base. He had set up some targets and was shooting at them with his Huntsmam. He was scowling, obviously mad about something. He had done terrible today. Missed a bunch of shots he could've easily got. And to make it worse, Spy had chewed him out about it at the end of the battle. That, of course, led them to start fighting. And now, after the fight had been broken up, here he was, shooting targets. Sniper was so wrapped up in it he didn't hear his name being called.

"Hey, Snipes!" Scout called, heading for Sniper and his targets.

Sniper didn't reply.

Scout stopped a few feet away from the Australian, blinking at him in confusion. "Snipes?"

This time, Sniper just chose not to respond. Maybe Scout would get the message.

"Err, I know you're busy…"

And maybe not.

"Yes, Scout, I am." He loosed another arrow. It stuck a target. Bull's eye.

"I know, I know!" Scout said hastily. "But I just wanted to know somethin' real fast! I just wanted to know if you were don-"

"Scout," Sniper interrupted. He didn't even look at the other. "I'm _busy_."

"I know, but I just need to know if- Eeeyah!" Scout interrupted himself with a screech. An arrow now stuck in the ground inches away from his feet. It was a good thing he was so fast. He had barely managed to dodge it. "What the hell? Why'd you shoot at m- what are you doing? Don't shoot again- Stop! Snipes, seriously! Ah! Watch it, watch it! Alright, alright! I'm leavin'! Just- oh my- jeez!"

And that day, Scout learned not to interfere with Sniper with his target practice, especially when he was mad.

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**I** is for _interrupt_.

"I am just looking out for your health, Soldier!"

"I can look after my own health, thank you!"

"Not if you get sick," Medic argued. "So if you just let me give you zis sho-"

"I don't need that shot!" Soldier snapped. "I can handle any sickness without it!"

"Oh, please! You had zhe flu last year. Taking zis shot vill help prevent you from getting it zis year!"

"I can manage on my own and without it."

"Ugh," Medic groaned. "You are so _stubborn_."

"And you're _so_ persistent."

"Vell excuse me for caring about zhe health of my team," Medic spat. He glared at the American for a whole minute before threatening, "Take zhe shot now, or I von't heal you in battle for a veek."

"You said you would heal me even when you're mad at me!"

"Vell now I von't heal you unless you take zis shot."

Soldier glared back. "That's not fair!"

"Life is not fair," Medic said back.

"And here I thought you said you cared for the health of the team…"

"I do!" Medic held up the needle he wanted to shove into Soldier's flesh. "Vhich is vhy I want you to take zis!"

"…" Soldier crossed his arms, pausing. "Look, Sally, I'll be fine without it. Give it to someone else, yeah?"

"Everyone else has already had one."

"…Well I still don't need it."

"Ugh. You are such a _dummkopf_. Vhy can't you just let someone help you for vonce?"

"'Cause I don't need it, Fritz."

"_Schweinhund_."

"Oktoberfest."

"Stubborn American."

"Pushy physician."

"Soldier-"

"Medic-"

"Hey, doc," Demoman waltzed into the infirmary. "Ya got anything I could take fer me h-" He stopped when he caught sight of Soldier and Medic, staring each other down and arguing. They were definitely having a moment. He shouldn't have interrupted. "Uh… sorry, didn't mean ta interrupt. I'll come back later."

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A/N: Jeez. When you have two snow days in a row it really gives you time to write. I'm on a roll here.

Technically, interfere and interrupt kinda mean that same thing, but I don't really care. Also, please don't ask what was illegal 'cause I don't know what was. I made it up.


	10. J is for joke

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**J** is for _joke_.

Heavy sat in the living room, on the couch, reading a book. His eyes had been glued to the book for the past hour or so, but now, when he suddenly heard rapid footsteps, he glanced up. Demoman suddenly ran through the living room, right past Heavy, before jetting away to the kitchen.

"It was only a joke, Sol," Demoman was screaming. "A bloody joke!"

Heavy blinked.

Not a second later, Soldier ran through the living room, ignoring Heavy, before going right for the kitchen. "C'mere, you unworthy cyclops!" he was screeching.

After a moment or two, the footsteps and screaming faded away.

Heavy blinked. Then he went back to his book.

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**J** is for _juggle_.

Pyro was calmly standing in the middle of the kitchen. He wasn't eating or drinking anything, nor was he about to start doing either of those things anytime soon. Pyro was juggling. He was juggling a cup, a can on Scout's Bonk!, and a bowl right in the middle of the kitchen. It was a special talent he had.

Demoman thought otherwise as he walked into the kitchen. "Pyro can juggle?" he asked Engineer, who was sitting at the table.

"Sure can," Engineer answered, not looking up from the paper he was reading. "He's pretty darn good at it, too. Been jugglin' like that fer five whole minutes now."

"Mm-hmm!"

Demoman stared at Pyro for a moment before saying, "And here I though ye couldn't get any weirder."

Pyro paused his juggling, catching the items. He then promptly threw the can of Bonk! at Demoman.

"Argh! Me good eye!"

"He's got a pretty darn good throwin' arm, too," Engineer said, eyes still not leaving the paper.

"Mmm-hmm."

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**J** is for _Jarate_.

Sniper didn't understand his teammates sometimes. They were just so _stupid_. Now, don't get him wrong. He knew his fellow BLU were all great mercenaries and great at kicking RED ass. But there many moments he just had to stop and stare, wondering how much stupider they could get. Take the other day for example: Sniper was at the Teufort battlements, sniping as usual. He had just put a hole between the RED Sniper's eyes when he heard a pained yell.

"Fire, fire, fire!" Scout screeched, jumping away from the RED Pyro. The two were fighting right at the entrance to the BLU base.

"Mphfer fupherr!" the RED Pyro cursed as Scout jumped out of range of his axe.

Left arm on fire, Scout took aim with his gun and fired a few shots. After three shots, the RED Pyro fell to the ground, good and dead. But Scout's arm was still on fire.

Sniper, upon noticing Scout's arm was aflame, shouted down to Scout, "Don't worry, Poppy! I gotcha covered!" He pulled out a jar of his Jarate and pulled his arm back, about to launch the jar so it could put out the flames burning Scout.

Scout caught sight of Sniper. "Augh!" He screeched again and turned away for the sewer waters. He jumped in without hesitation.

Sniper gaped in disbelief. Lowering his Jarate, his gape turned into a frown. Why had Scout done that? He had his Jarate ready!

Scout's head popped above the water's surface moments later.

"Scout!" Sniper called down to him. "Why'd ya move? I had ya covered!" he shook his jar of Jarate for emphasis.

"Uh," Scout stuttered a bit as he called back. "T-that's alright, Snipes! I had it covered! Thanks anyways, though! Gonna go… find the doc now! See ya!" And with that, Scout swam to the sewers.

Sniper thought that was odd. But then again, maybe Scout was just being arrogant and trying to seem like he didn't need his help or something. But then there was that time with Heavy.

Sniper was again sniping up in the battlements. He didn't even notice Heavy until he heard him screaming.

"Fire, fire, fire!" Heavy shouted, running out of their base, covered in flames.

Sniper was prepared. "Heavy! Up here!" He held his Jarate up, about to throw it.

"No!" Heavy shouted again, holding his hands up. "Is not needed, Sniper!" he fumbled around before pulling out his Sandvich. "Will eat Sandvich and find doktor!" Heavy ran out of sight once more, faster than Sniper had ever seen him run.

Sniper was again confused. Using his Jarate would be so much faster, though! He tried not to think about those instances, but then the whole thing with Spy happened.

Sniper was headed for the sewers, Huntsman equipped. He was almost at the entrance when Spy ran back into the base via said entrance. He was in flames.

"I do believe I'm on fire!" Spy declared rather obviously.

The RED Pyro was behind him, flamethrower spewing flames.

One quick arrow to the head to care of the RED Pyro. And Sniper knew what would take care of the soon-to-be-cooked Spy.

As Sniper pulled out his Jarate, Spy stared yelling, "_Non, non, non, non_!" He danced away from Sniper.

"Hold still, spook!" Sniper yelled back. He didn't want to miss and waste his Jarate.

"_Non, je_- Pyro!" Spy interrupted himself when he caught sight of Pyro leaving the courtyard. He ran over to the fellow BLU. "Put me out! Put me out!" Spy all but demanded.

Pyro sighed. Flamethrower aimed at Spy, he let loose an air blast. The flames across Spy's body disappeared in the great rush of air.

Spy sighed in relief. "Ah, much appreciated, Pyro," he said, checking himself over.

"Mmm-hmm," Pyro nodded before walking away, off to do whatever he was about to do.

Sniper stared. "What the hell?" he managed to say after a moment.

"Something zhe matter, bushman?"

"No, somethin's the matter with the lot of you," Sniper snapped back. "Every bloody time one-a you is on fire 'n' I have my Jarate out 'n' ready, you all run away! Wot's the problem? I'm jus' tryin' to help putcha out!"

Spy's lip curled in disgust. "You think we _want_ to be put out by your filthy body fluids?"

"I'm jus' tryin' to help!"

"'ere's 'ow you can 'elp, Sniper," Spy said. "Don't use your Jarate."

Sniper thought about what Spy said, but still didn't really get it. It didn't make any sense! When his teammates were on fire, they should want to be put out! Many times they were covered in flames and they still almost always refused the help of his Jarate. To Sniper, his teammates were being ridiculous. What was the problem with using his Jarate?

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**J** is for _jealous_.

"Hello, Heavy," Medic walked up to his fellow BLU. "How did you fair in today's fight?"

Heavy grumbled something Medic couldn't understand.

"Pardon?"

"Maybe you would know if you had followed me!" Heavy snapped.

Medic jumped at the volume of his voice. Heavy sounded… irritated, upset, and annoyed all in one. "Vhat?"

Heavy went on. "Instead of following _Soldier_ all day…"

Medic blinked. Medic had followed Soldier around a lot today. The RED Engineer was _glued_ to his sentry nearly the entire match and the BLUs repeatedly needed some rocket power to take care of the bothersome sentry. Medic realized he hadn't spent very much time with Heavy, like he usually did. And now Heavy sounded… jealous about that? "Heavy," Medic said slowly. "Are you jealous I spent more time healing Soldier instead of you today?"

"_Nyet_!" Heavy crossed his arms and looked away from the German. "Am not jealous! I just do not like it when you heal _him_ more than _me_!"

That sounded like a definite _yes_.

"Heavy! I have to heal zhe others, too!" Oh, Heavy and his jealousy sometimes…

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A/N: J, you were annoying to do. Glad I'm done with you. But even _more_ snow days certainly helped me finish you.


	11. K is for kill

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**K** is for _keep_.

"Heck _no_," Engineer gaped. "There is no way you're keepin' that snake, Sniper."

Sniper frowned at Engineer and then down at the snake in his hands. "That's not fair," he grumbled, turning around to walk back outside. "Medic has his doves, Scout's got 'is cat, but I can't keep one mildly venomous snake."

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**K** is for _kill_.

Sometimes, Spy wonders if he should even call himself a killer anymore.

He thought about it long and hard. He thought about it when he stabbed the RED Engineer in the back. He thought about it when he shot the RED Heavy in the head. Yes, Spy killed both of them as he thought about his predicament. But when you killed someone they died. When Spy killed both those REDs, they came back not two minutes later, alive and well. So, technically speaking, Spy never killed them, correct? Due to the wonders of the respwan machine, no one was truly killed and no one truly died. Could he and his fellow mercenaries even be called killers anymore then? Faced with only the option of killing someone of an opposing color, who would come back to life minutes later only to kill you?

Spy certainly wondered. But after a while he realized he didn't really care. It didn't matter to him. If he _had_ to kill someone, he would kill them. It didn't matter if they could come back or not.

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**K** is for _kick_.

Scout was not in trouble. No, not yet. The RED Heavy had managed to grab him. With one of his huge (_fat_) arms, he had managed to grab Scout around his midsection, ceasing any movement of his arms and making it increasingly difficult to breathe easily. Scout struggled and flailed as best he could, but the fat RED was not letting go. He had also dropped his gun when the RED Heavy had grabbed him, so that wasn't helping either. Nor was the fact that more REDs were headed in their direction, probably to help their Heavy finish Scout off. Now he was in trouble. Scout stopped struggling to frown. Okay, no way in hell was he going to let this mound of fat and his team get the best of him.

Scout brought his head forward, paused for a moment, and then sharply pushed it back, slamming the back of his head into the RED Heavy's face. The RED cried out, letting go of Scout to drop him and clutch his nose in pain. Scout didn't waste a second. He turned around, brought one of his legs back, and then quickly brought it forward to kick the RED Heavy where the sun don't shine. The RED let out a strangled sounding yell and dropped to his knees, all the while clutching his crotch in agony. Scout smirked before bringing his leg back once more, and then forward once more to kick the RED Heavy right in the head. The RED fell to the ground, out cold.

Scout's smirk only grew. "Gee," he smugly said to the knocked out RED. "I dunno if you ever noticed, but I don't usually use my _arms_ in battle." He went over to his gun and picked it up. "S'all in the legs, fatso. Maybe next time yous should try stoppin' those instead." He pointed the gun at the RED Heavy's head. "Except that there won't be a next time." Scout pulled the trigger and the RED didn't even make a sound as he was killed.

Scout turned his head when he heard an enraged cry to his left. Oh, those REDs were a lot closer. Time to jet. He kicked the RED Heavy's body in spite and then smugly waved at the approaching REDs, grinning. Oh, they were probably beyond ticked now. But it's not like they could catch him.

All that was left was a cloud of kicked up dust by the time they reached the RED Heavy's body.

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**K** is for _knocked out_.

Medic sat at his desk in the infirmary, doing some paperwork. Aside from the rhythmic movement of his pen and the cooing coming from his doves, the infirmary was rather quiet. He suddenly got up and walked over to a counter, picking up a clipboard from atop it. He scanned the pages. His paperwork wasn't hard per se, but he was concentrating very hard. Medic tended to do that sometimes. Concentrate too hard, that is. It's just this paperwork he was currently doing was really important to-

A hand suddenly fell down onto his right shoulder. "Hey, Medic, I was-"

"Ahh!" Medic jumped in surprise, dropped his clipboard, whipped around, and punched whoever had tried to talk to him right in the face.

…It turned out to be Soldier. He fell back to the ground after Medic punched him and was out like a light.

Medic gaped.

"Holy Hell," Medic heard from the doorway. Engineer was standing there, gaping as well. "Doc, you knocked 'im out."

"I-I didn't mean to!"

"You knocked _Soldier_ out with _one_ punch."

"He startled me!" Medic defended himself. "How vas I supposed to know he vas zere? He could haf been more… noisy! So I could haf known he vas zere! He vas unusually quiet… for Soldier, zat is."

Engineer was chuckling. "Doc, you're somethin' else."

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**K** is for _knife_.

Spy twirled his knife around, playing with it. He was doing it absentmindedly, not focusing on it and instead paying attention to the conversation he was currently having with Sniper. Well, if one could even call it a conversation.

"Oh, come now. You can 'ardly even _use_ zat piece of sharpened wood. You swing eet around like you don't even intend to 'it anything. My knife, 'owever, can actually make a kill."

It was more of an argument.

"That's not a knife," Sniper said in disdain, staring at Spy's knife. He held up his Kukri for emphasis. "That's a knife."

"Maybe, but eet's a knife zat 'as done little damage to anything, let alone any killing."

"My Kukri does plenty of damage! It can make larger gashes 'n' wounds than your puny knife!"

"Eet's not about zhe size of zhe wound, bushman. Eet's about where and 'ow you place zhe wound, whether or not zhe wound kills. I figured you, being a 'unter and all, would know _zat_."

"…" Sniper crossed his arms, glaring at Spy. "Well my knife's bigger."

Spy sighed, rolling his eyes pointedly. "Eet's not about zhe size," he said, stopping his knife twirling. "Eet's 'ow you use eet."

Scout suddenly walked between the two, a can of soda in hand. He had heard a bit of their conversation/argument. He took a sip from his soda before asking, "You two sure you're talking about knives there?" He then glanced at both of them, smarmily grinning, before walking away.

Spy paused, frowning.

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

They then each looked down at their respected knife.

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A/N: Shoot me. Shoot me now. I just… I tried… Ngk.


	12. L is for lost

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**L** is for _Lyra_.

Lyra liked it here. In this big building filled with the different shades of blue. It was big and roomy with lots of places to explore and sleep. And there lots of mice here for her to eat! But most of all, she liked the blue people in the big, blue building.

There was Scout. He was Lyra's favorite. He was the one who brought her here, which is why he was her favorite. He always gave her the most tidbits at mealtimes and played with her the most. She made sure to sleep with him every night.

Then there was Sniper. She stayed with him for a few days before she came to the big, blue building. He slept a lot, but that was alright with Lyra. She'd nap with him all day if she could.

But there were things to be done! Like catch mice in Engineer's workshop! She loved Engineer's workshop. It was so big and full of so many crevices and machines and interesting smells! Engineer was really nice, too. No matter what he was doing, he always had a spare moment to pet her.

Lyra didn't want Pyro to pet her at first. The gloves he always wore with his suit felt weird. But then one day Pyro had bubbles! A lot of bubbles he blew just for her! She was okay with Pyro after that.

There was Heavy. He was very warm. He didn't seem to mind Lyra all that much. Whenever he was on the couch in the living room reading a book, she made sure to curl up next to him. He was second only to Sniper around naptime.

Demoman was interesting enough. He smelt funny and was always drinking this strange liquid that tasted funny when Lyra had a small taste of it. Whenever she rubbed against his legs, she was sure to get a scratch behind the ears at the very least.

Spy also smelt funny. Lyra didn't mind, though. Spy liked her. He told her himself! He was more of a cat person than a dog person. He also hung around that evil, red dot! Only when she was around him did it appear. One day, she'd catch it and give it to Spy.

Lyra wanted to give presents to Soldier as well. He was second to only to Scout around mealtimes because he gave her many tidbits as well. Soldier could be a bit loud at times, but she could tell he always enjoyed her company. She made sure to visit him at least twice a day. Three times if the battle was exceptionally rough.

Then there was Medic. He smelled of medicine and birds. That quirked Lyra's interest, but she could tell Medic didn't like her at first. He didn't allow her into his big medicine and bird-smelling room. She was all right with that. The room only smelled half good anyways. He never pet her and ignored her. She acted just as indifferent. But one day, Medic lured her into his big medicine and bird-smelling room. He fed her pieces of meat and while she ate she felt a small prick in her side. But the meat was so good she hardly noticed! Medic said something to her then. The first thing he had said to her since everyone agreed to her staying.

"Zere. Can't have you getting rabies, can ve? Scout and zhe others vould be most upset. Just don't tell zem I gave you zhe shot, _ja_? Zey vill make zhe mistake of thinking I actually have a heart! Ha!"

Lyra didn't know what that all meant, of course, but she knew that after that Medic liked her just a little more. And she was all right with that.

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**L** is for _lost_.

Spy raised his fist to knock on Scout's door. "Scout?"

There was no reply.

"Scout?" Spy knocked twice more. "I know you're in there."

Still no reply.

"I'm coming in," Spy said, throwing Scout's door open. "Scout, I…" he stopped short and let out a low whistle. Scout's room was a _mess_.

His bed was untidy. His desk was covered in papers and all the drawers were open. Same with his dresser. Drawers open with clothes hanging out and some pooled around on the floor. His closet door was open and coats were scattered around the door. Scout had his head stuck in the closet, but pulled in out when he heard Spy whistle. "What d'you want?" he snapped.

"Well," Spy still looked around the room. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go into town." He looked at Scout. "But now I think you should stay 'ere and clean zis mess up."

Scout scowled at him before sticking his head back in his closet.

Spy raised and eyebrow. He had been expecting some sort of retort. "What are you doing?" he asked as he stepped over to Scout.

"Searchin'," Scout answered, not looking at Spy.

"For what?"

"My dog tags," Scout sighed, finally pulling his head out of the closet. "I can't find 'em anywhere!"

"Perhaps you lost them under zhe mess you just created," Spy said, looking at all the scattered clothes with slight disdain.

Scout ignored that. "I was just wearin' 'em yesterday!" he frowned. "How could they just disappear like that?"

"Zey will turn up, _lapin_," Spy said empathetically.

Scout's shoulders slumped and his frown deepened. "I gotta find 'em," he said with determination. "My family gave 'em to me before I left. One of the tags has my name on it 'n' the other has my brothers' and ma's name on it. I gotta find 'em."

"I take eet you won't be coming into town with us then?"

"Uh, _no_."

"Just try not to tear zhe base apart while we are gone, _oui_?"

"No promises."

So while most of the BLUs went into town forty or so miles away, Scout stayed at the base, searching for his dog tags. After doing a second search of his room, he moved on. The kitchen, maybe? Unlikely, but he searched all around in anyway. Not on the counters or under the table. The living room? Scout double-checked the couch, under it and around the cushions. Same with the chairs, but it wasn't there either. Medic hadn't gone to town with the others and he let Scout search the infirmary, but he still had no luck in there either. Next was Engineer's workshop. The workshop was so big and full of so much junk, Scout spent the majority of the afternoon searching in there. And what did he find? Nothing, that's what. Scout even checked inside their laundry machines, thinking they got caught in the wash somehow, but it wasn't so.

As the evening hours came around, Scout finally had to admit he had lost them. Lost the dog tags his family game him. Lost the dog tags that had all of his brothers' and ma's names engraved into them. So he did exactly what the situation called for: he moped. He moped when his teammates came back and he moped all during dinner. Speaking of dinner, he left early. He was too busy moping to be all that hungry. As Scout slowly walked back to his room he figured he clean his room and mope at the same time. He was good at multitasking like that. As he opened his bedroom door, he also fi-

Wait. What was that? On his bed? Scout walked up to his bed, making sure to avoid all the piles of clothes on the floor. There, sitting on his bed like it had been there the whole time, was his dog tags! Scout snatched them up with glee. His dog tags! How had they gotten there? The bed was the first thing Scout checked! How could they- wait. There was something else on the bed. A note. Scout picked it up and opened it up to read it.

"_Lapin,_

_I noticed these on the ground outside. Do try not to lose them again."_

Scout blinked, recognizing that fancy handwriting and nickname a certain someone called him. Spy had found them? Scout looked at his dog tags and Scout had to grin. That fancy bastard. Scout tore out of his room, dog tags in hand. He ran to the kitchen, but Spy wasn't there. He found him about to leave the living room. Scout ran right up to him and punched him in the arm before he could.

Spy jumped back. The punch didn't hurt, just surprised him. "What was zat f-"

Scout held up his dog tags, cutting Spy off. "You are the fucking best Spy _ever_," he said bluntly and loudly. Scout punched Spy in the arm one more time before turning around and taking off again.

Spy stood there, blinking. Sniper stopped throwing darts to stare. Engineer and Soldier looked away from the TV to raise some eyebrows. "What was that about, Spah?" Engineer eventually asked.

"Oh, Scout just realized zhe obvious," Spy smirked. "Zat I'm zhe best Spy ever."

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**L** is for _Lollichop_.

"That has gotta be," Scout gaped at the Lollichop Pyro was currently wielding. "The freakin' weirdest weapon I've ever seen."

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**L** is for _lapin_.

"You have gotta be freakin' kiddin' me."

Out of all the things Spy could have said, of all the things he could have called him-

"What's zhe matter, _lapin_?"

Spy just had to start calling Scout _lapin_.

"You did not just call me that."

"_Quoi_?"

"You know _what_," Scout glared at Spy.

Spy rolled his eyes towards the heavens, grinning. "There is a problem, _lapin_?" Oh, he sounded so damn pleased with himself.

"Hell yes, there is a problem," Scout snapped. "You just called me…" he struggled to get the word out. "_Lapin_."

"I did."

"Well don't!"

Spy's face became unreadable, but his eyes were full of amusement. "Why not?"

"Why da fuck do ya think why not?"

"Language, _lapin_."

"Don't call me dat!"

The smirk returned. It either sprung from Scout's frustration about the nickname or from the way Scout's Bostonian accent was steadily seeping through his words the angrier he got. Either way, it amused Spy to no end. "Well why wouldn't I?" Spy raised an eyebrow, looking in Scout's direction. "Zhe name _lapin_ fits you very nicely."

"No, it doesn't," Scout insisted, still scowling. "I am nothin' like a freakin' rabbit!"

"You run fast like one," Spy noted.

"That doesn't mean ya can call me _lapin_!"

Spy slowly blinked, starting to frown. "I could call you something else," he said after a moment.

Scout raised an eyebrow. Really? It had been that easy? Spy would just stop? "Anything but _lapin_," he said, crossing his arms.

"Of course," Spy pretended to look thoughtful for a moment. "Would you prefer _mon chou_? _Peut-etre mon puce ou mon cher_?" He was grinning again.

Scout froze. "What the fuck," he managed to choke out after a second. "Those… those are…"

"What, _mon canard_?"

"_Ohmygod_," Scout literally gagged. "Do _not_ call me any-a those either! None!"

"_Pourquoi, mon petit_?"

Scout let out a groan that slowly turned into a whine. "Those names're even worse! What's the matter with just callin' me Scout?" he gripped.

"Nothing."

Scout looked hopeful. "Then you'll just call me Scout?"

"Whatever you want, _lapin_."

Spy had yet to cease calling Scout _lapin_. Unfortunately for Scout, he probably wouldn't ever stop calling him that.

"Ugh!"

No matter how much Scout whined.

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A/N: With the Lyra one, I kind of wanted it to seem like it was being told from Lyra's POV (it wasn't, obviously. It was still in third person), which is why it seems so simplistic.

And love the Lollichop. What's your favorite melee weapon? Do tell! Mine has to be the Holy Mackerel. 'Cause, y'know. It's a _fish_ that you can _hit_ people with.

This chapter was a short and sweet, super-duper, happy-go-lucky, chapter-o-fluff.

Huh. I suppose I should try to include some poorly-attempted-hardcore-serious-crap in this story.

So.

Upcoming chapters. _Allons-y_.


	13. M is for Mann Manor

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**M** is for _Mann Manor_.

Mann Manor. The BLUs first time there had been… interesting, to say the least. Their base was located behind their resupply room, while the RED base was located behind the manor itself. Luckily, neither base was as old as the manor and, like every other base, was nice enough. Both teams had a chance to walk the location and get used to it before actually fighting on the terrain. The REDs got to walk the entire map (as the Administrator called it, for some reason) from dawn to noon, while the BLUs got it from noon to dusk. The manor was actually the last thing the BLUs checked out when they investigated the map. The two control points and the multiple sheds around the map were checked out first. Once inside the manor, the BLUs were less than amused. It was old and it was aging. It looked bigger from the outside. Now that they were actually in there…

"This place looks like it'll fall down any minute," Sniper commented as the team walked into the room that housed the control point.

"Amazingly enough," Spy said as he transferred his cigarette from hand to hand. "I 'ave to agree with 'im. Zis place is atrocious. Does zhe Administrator really want us to fight 'ere?"

"Zhe floor around zhe third control point is barely zere. It's almost gone," Medic noted.

Demoman whistled. "I dun think there's much 'o an attic left," he pointed up. A gaping, extremely large hole was above them. "Tha's a mighty big hole in the ceiling."

"Walls are chipped," Heavy sniffed.

"And there are pumpkins everywhere!" Scout shook his head. "I mean, are they really necessary inside the mansion?"

"Fellas," Engineer piped up. "If the Administrator said we're gonna fight here, we're gonna fight here. Ain't much use to complain. We'll get used to it, just like every other map she's put us on."

"Why does she call all these locations maps anyways?" Scout asked.

"Hell if I know," Engineer shrugged.

"Well," Sniper spoke up, staring towards some rickety-looking stairs. "I'ma go check the attic out."

"I will as well," Spy said, following him.

"I see another room over there," Soldier said, noticing another room on the other side of the control point. He jabbed Medic. "Let's go check it out, cupcake."

Medic rolled his eyes and sighed, but followed Soldier anyway.

"Mph gonnin phff wnf," Pyro turned around, indicating he was going back out the way they came. There was a hallway he wanted to snoop about.

"Well, I think I'll-"

"Hey, what's this?" Scout was looking at a random pumpkin in a corner. It had something strapped to it.

As he reached out to touch it, Demoman's eye bulged. "Ack! Lad, dun be touchin' that!" He lunged forward and yanked Scout away from the pumpkin before he could lay a finger on it.

Scout jumped away from Demoman, surprised. "What? Why not?"

"Watch," Demoman motioned for the other BLUs to step back. Once his he and his teammates had done so, he pulled a nickel out of his pocket. He chucked it at the pumpkin. With a loud, splattering sound, the pumpkin exploded into a million pieces and caused some of the BLUs to jump. Smoking bits and pieces of pumpkin was splattered against the floor and nearby walls. "Tha's why ye shouldn't touch 'em," Demoman nodded.

There was a silence as Heavy, Engineer, and Scout all gaped.

Scout broke the silence, choking out, "It's _explosive_?"

"Yep."

"Explosive pumpkins," Engineer sighed, smacking a hand against his forehead.

"Is dangerous," Heavy frowned. "Could do much damage if bullet hit it and teammate is nearby. Should warn others."

"That we should, Heavy," Demoman grinned as he walked over and pulled his nickel out of pumpkin remains.

"It's explosive?" Scout repeated, still in awe apparently. "That's… awesome! This map just got ten times better!"

Once the news of the explosive pumpkins had been passed around the team, dusk approached. The BLUs went back to base to prepare some more for tomorrow's fight. And all too soon tomorrow came and they were fighting once more. Both teams were, of course, still not completely used to the map and their pace was rather slow. The BLUs hadn't even captured the first control point yet. They were steadily pushing forward, though. The RED Engineer's sentry had just been taken care of and now they had to-

Suddenly, some odd music and loud laughing came from seemingly nowhere. Every mercenary, RED and BLU, stopped. They had all heard it, but where did it come from?

The RED Scout started to loudly ask, "Where the f-"

Suddenly, the first control point was encircled in flames. The RED Demoman and Pyro jumped off of it. The RED Heavy and RED Medic took a few uncertain steps back. Everyone else who was further away from it gaped. Something… something was rising from the flames? It… it had some sort of pumpkin in its hand and was leaning against a _huge_ axe. Whatever it was it wasn't human (it seemed stupid to call it a monster, but that looked exactly like what is was…). It had no skin, only bones. Suddenly, with a boney hand, it placed the pumpkin on its neck and rotated. Facial features were seemingly carved into the pumpkin. Only they were _moving_.

A grin was splitting the monster's face in half. "Oh," it said in an odd, almost happy sounding voice. "What a pleasure it is, finally being able to meet you all! I can't _wait_ to get started! But allow me to introduce myself first," the monster said, heaving its axe up and into the air. With a single swing, it sliced the RED Demoman's neck right off.

The RED's body crumpled to the ground, headed for respawn.

"You can call me the Horseless Headless Horsemann!" With another swing of his axe, he quickly took Pyro's head as well. Laughing, he started to chase all the other mercenaries as well, RED or BLU.

His head-hungry axe was hardly the worst part. He was fast, real fast. Maybe the same speed as one of the Scouts. He was, obviously, a lot bigger than either of the Heavies. And one of his hollowing screams could stop the mercenaries in their tracks. Bullets didn't seem to bother him! It was awful. Each team now had to ignore capping or protecting the point, and focus on running and firing at the Horseless Headless Horsemann.

Spy, currently creeping around in the shed closest to the first control point, stopped to take a breather. He cloaked when he heard footsteps approaching.

Scout suddenly ran in, loudly gasping. "Shit," he breathed.

Still invisible, Spy asked, "Still think zis map is nice, Scout?" He materialized into view, scowling.

Scout was too tired to jump. He scowled right back at Spy. "This map just got ten times worse."

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**M** is for _Medic_.

"Medic!"

"Doktor!"

"Mediph!"

"Doc, come on man!"

"C'mere, sweetheart!"

"_Docteur_!"

"Zat's it!" Medic screeched. "Someone yell 'Medic' one more time! _One more time!_"

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**M** is for _Marko_.

Medic used to like his name.

"Marko!"

…Used to.

"Marko!"

Medic didn't respond.

"Marko!"

Medic narrowed his eyes.

"_Marko_!"

Medic twitched.

"Maaarrrkkooo, c'mon man!"

"C'mon, Marko!"

"Psst, Marko," Scout poked Medic. "You're supposed to say-"

"I know!" Medic exploded, slapping Scout's hand away. "I _know_."

"But you're not-"

"Zis is stupid!" Medic snapped. "Vhy can't he just call like normal? Vhy does he have to call my _real_ name?"

"Because that's not how you do it."

"…" Medic's scowl wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"C'mon, Marko," Scout bounced up and down. "Just this once! Just today! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

"Markoooo!"

"…"

"Solly's callin'…"

Medic crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably. After a long hesitation, he mumbled something.

"If I can't hear ya, Solly sure as hell can't."

"_Marko_!"

"Ugh…" Medic groaned. Then, as loudly as he dared, he ground out, "Polo."

"Finally!" Both Scout and Soldier shouted.

"Took ya long enough," Scout said as Soldier approached the two.

"It's one word, Marko, one word," Soldier stopped in front of the other two.

"Don't call me zat!" Medic spat. "It's stupid! I find zis game ridiculous!"

"I think it's a great idea," Soldier countered. "Best idea Scout ever had!"

"I always played Marco Polo when I was a kid," Scout grinned. "I figured playin' _Marko_ Polo would, y'know, be cool here, too." He snickered and Soldier joined in.

Medic glared at them both. "I hate both of you."

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**M** is for _Merasmus_.

"They were perfectly fine! _You _just had issues with them being there!"

"Because they were in my castle!"

"They needed a home!"

"Well they could've found one elsewhere!"

"Your castle was just right!"

"But it's _my castle_! What part of 'my castle' don't you get?"

"The part where you couldn't have shared it with them! You let me room with you!"

"That was a grave mistake on my side!"

"Pfft, you just don't know how to loosen up and have a good time!"

"Having a good time is not throwing a party with a bunch of raccoons and destroying my castle!"

A few feet away, the rest of the BLU team watched Merasmus and the RED Soldier argue, making no move to stop the two from fighting. The REDs stood on the other side of their Soldier, looking just as bored.

Sniper eventually came down from his sniping spot to ask, "How long've they been at it?"

Medic sighed. "More zan five minutes?" he shrugged, looking at his Medi Gun with disinterest.

"I know we have to help get rid of Merasmus with the REDs 'n' all since he interrupted our fights," Scout crossed his arms. "But did we really hafta stop shootin' 'em? Maybe if we shoot 'em now, they'll shut up!"

"Is getting boring watching them argue like leetle babies," Heavy agreed.

"Eet is," Spy agreed as well, frowning. "But I couldn't 'elp but notice," he said, looking at his teammates. "Those two argue much like Soldier and Medic."

"What?" Medic and Soldier spat.

"They do," Engineer nodded. "Betcha they argue over the smallest of things, jus' like Medic 'n' Soldier."

"Like what a gun is," Heavy said.

"Or whether or not a shot is needed," Demoman snorted.

"Rocket jumping," Scout put in.

"Nicknames," Engineer rolled his eyes.

"What?" Soldier broke in. "We do not argue!"

The BLUs all looked at the two with raised eyebrows.

"…" Soldier frowned. "Well not as much as those two!"

"Indeed," Medic nodded. "Most of zhe time, none of zhe things I say to Soldier even get through zat thick skull of his!"

"Oh, trust me," Soldier rolled his eyes. "I hear everything you say. I just have to stop listening because it turns into nagging."

"I do not nag!"

"You do too!"

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"No, I don't!"

"You're right. It's not nagging. It's _complaining_."

"I'm not doing zat either!"

The rest of the BLUs all sighed. Those two were seriously arguing about arguing. Typical.

"Oh, hey," Scout suddenly brightened up. "Merasmus and the RED Soldier stopped fightin'! Let's go shoot 'em again!"

As rest of the BLUs jumped back into action, Heavy stopped to look back at Soldier and Medic, who were both still fighting. "What about doktor and Soldier?"

Engineer stopped to shake his head at Heavy. "S'a lost cause there, Heavy," he said, frowning. "Just let 'em be. They'll stop soon enough… I hope."

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**M** is for _Miss Pauling_.

Miss Pauling shouldn't be picking favorites. It wasn't professional. But she had to admit, between the REDs and BLUs, she favored the BLUs much more. Granted, they were both groups of mercenaries that killed on a daily basis, but the BLUs were a tad more… civil. One could only take so much of the RED Scout and RED Spy hitting on her, the RED Soldier's yelling, and the RED Medic excessive talking about blood and guts. She routinely had to visit both teams to collect updated medical files, check on their stock of ammo, make sure the bases didn't have any serious damage or malfunctions, and others things such as that, but she made sure to make her visit with the REDs quick as possible.

Currently, and after her scheduled trip to the RED base, Miss Pauling headed for the BLU base. Same with the RED base, she was to enter from the back entrance to the Engineer's workshop. She unlocked said door and pushed it open.

Engineer was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, fiddling with some blueprints. He jumped when Miss Pauling opened the door. "Good God, Miss Pauling," he chuckled, setting his blueprints down. "I do wish ya'd knock instead of surprisin' me like that!"

"You've known I've had this key for quite some time, Engineer," Miss Pauling remarked, dangling the key for emphasis.

"Of course, of course," Engineer waved it off, standing up to walk over the assistant. "How you doin' today, Miss Pauling?"

"Better," Miss Pauling said. "Now that I'm done dealing with the REDs."

Engineer chuckled again. "You sure don't make it much of a secret that ya like us more," he noted.

"Only around you, Engineer." He was probably the only one Miss Pauling would openly tell that she favored the BLUs more. Heaven only knows how she's been able to keep that information from the Administrator. It probably had to do with the fact she only visited the teams every few months… "And how are you today, Engineer?"

"Pretty good," Engineer answered. "Can I get ya something ta drink?"

Miss Pauling shook her head. "Don't bother. I'll be heading for the kitchen as soon as I have the list."

"Ah, yeah, that," Engineer walked back over to the table and picked up a paper. "Solly filled it out last night. All the ammo we're gettin' low on." He handed her the paper.

"Thank you," Miss Pauling nodded, stuffing the paper into a folder she had with her. "And any major problems with the base?"

"Nope," Engineer frowned. "Nothin' too serious gone wrong yet. I'm keepin' it together as best I can. I'm surprised this place has lasted as long as it has."

"Please notify me if you need anything to fix it up, then," Miss Pauling said as she checked something off in her folder.

"You got it."

"I do wish I could talk with you more, Engineer, but I'm afraid the Administrator needs me back as soon as possible." Miss Pauling started to head for the door.

"She works you to the bone, she does," Engineer shook his head. "Go ahead 'n' do yer job then."

"See you again, Engineer," Miss Pauling nodded goodbye.

"Good day ta ya, Miss Pauling!"

Miss Pauling stepped out of the Engineer's workshop. Knowing exactly where she was going, she headed for the kitchen. The Spy and Scout were in there, playing cards.

"Yo, Miss Pauling!" Scout grinned when he saw her. "Wanna play some cards?"

Miss Pauling resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm working, Scout," she answered.

Scout shrugged. "Nothin' wrong with takin' a break."

"I'm afraid I'm just here for some coffee." Miss Pauling walked over to a cabinet to pull out a cup. A pot of coffee was next to the fridge and she poured herself some. She took a swing. It was a bit lukewarm, but it'd have to do for now. "Did you guys get your last shipment?"

Spy answered, "We did."

"Good," Miss Pauling set her coffee down for a moment to check something off in her folder. "You'll be getting your next one Monday."

"Understood," Spy answered again.

"I'm off to see Medic, then," Miss Pauling said, picking her coffee back up. She didn't mean to sound like she was in such a hurry, but the Administrator really did need her back as soon as possible.

"Play some cards with us next time!" Scout shouted as she started for the infirmary.

"No promises," she called back. At her brisk pace, she arrived at the infirmary in no time. She threw open the door.

"Ah, Miss Pauling," Medic said when he looked up from his desk. "Here for zhe files already?"

"I'm afraid so," Miss Pauling frowned. "You finished them, yes?"

Medic nodded. "All competed." He stood up, picked up numerous files, and walked over to hand them to the assistant.

Miss Pauling counted them before saying, "Excellent." She set her coffee down on a counter and cradled all the files in her arms. "I do wish I could stay and chat, Medic, but I need to be off."

"So soon?" Medic frowned. "How unfortunate. It's nice to have an intellectual conversation vith someone like you vonce in a vhile."

Miss Pauling laughed. "I'm sure Spy and Engineer would object to that."

"Perhaps. Zey are zhe only exceptions, though," Medic smiled. "Can I at least valk you out?"

"If you'd like," Miss Pauling said as she exited the infirmary. Medic followed her. "Where's the rest of the team?"

"Town," Medic answered as he closed the door. "I suppose zey forgot you vere coming today. Better for you, though. Zhe others vould have bothered you to stay."

"Scout tried," Miss Pauling smiled.

Medic rolled his eyes. "Zat does not surprise me. Zhe boy-" Medic cut himself off and stopped short. "I thought I told him to…" he trailed off, looking past Miss Pauling.

Miss Pauling turned around, looking to see what Medic was staring at. She saw it rather quickly. Walking down the hall and right towards the two was a cat. Miss Pauling blinked. A cat?

In the blink of an eye, Medic swooped down to scoop the cat up. "I told Scout to lock her in his room," he hissed, mostly to himself.

"She's Scout's cat?" Miss Pauling raised an eyebrow.

Medic froze. The cat had frozen in Medic's arms as well (though Lyra was probably more surprised that Medic had picked her up). "She is… all of ours. Scout found her. Ve kept her," Medic answered slowly. He didn't know Miss Pauling as well as Miss Pauling knew him. He didn't know how she would react towards Lyra. He _did_ know that she was the loyal assistant to the Administrator, always and able to do whatever that woman asked. Always followed her rules. And it was probably wasn't allowed to keep cats (Medic's birds were a strange exception, for some reason). Would Miss Pauling tell the Administrator? If the Administrator found out and they had to get rid of Lyra, Scout would be so-

Miss Pauling's face became unreadable. She suddenly nodded at Medic. "You all take good care of her, then."

"Vhat?" Medic choked out, gaping. "You are not going to… to…"

"If the Administrator finds out, she'll probably have me dispose of her," Miss Pauling said. "Make sure that doesn't happen."

Medic adjusted his grip on the cat and pushed his glasses up. He let out a small grin. "Oh, Miss Pauling," he said. "You make it too obvious sometimes."

Miss Pauling favored the BLUs more than the REDs.

The BLUs hoped she realized that they favored her as well.

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A/N: Entire reason Medic's name is Marko. Right there. Yep. I'll never use his name again now that I got that out of my system, though.

Mann Manor. All time favorite map. Hightower and Harvest are fun as well. What's your favorite map?

I was seriously also going to do 'M is for mary-sue'. Y'know, for all those _lovely _and _totally creative_ fem!characters, tenth class, and author inserts I see just about _everywhere_. But I decided against it. Maybe another time. There's always time to bash those mary-sues- I mean, totally original, super-fantabulous, kawaii OC characters. _Always_.

And ya'll know what else? We're halfway through this little story! So thanks to all of you for sticking around to read this! I'm glad you guys like it! You guys are awesome!


	14. N is for nicknames

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**N** is for _Nucleus_.

"Nu-uh. No way. You're lyin', right?" Scout crossed his arms, looking warily at Demoman. "There's no way there's an actual control point at Nucleus!"

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**N** is for _need_.

Engineer finished his Level 3 sentry with a satisfied sigh. He was about to put his wrench away, but froze when he heard something behind him. "SPAH!" Wrench raised, Engineer turned around, ready to face his attacker.

And was met with no RED Spy, but Scout, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

Engineer lowered his wrench. "Oh, Scout," he said. "I thought you were a Spah or somethin'. Don't sneak up on me like that, son!"

"Sorry, Engie," Scout said, frowning. He stood there for a moment, not saying anything but looking at the Texan every so often.

"Is there somethin' you needed?" Engineer asked when Scout said nothing.

"Um, kinda," Scout fidgeted.

"Well, stop fidgetin' 'n' tell me!"

"Okay, but not so loud!" Scout said. "Come closer."

Engineer leaned down a bit.

"Closer."

Engineer leaned down more.

Scout looked around before he laid his hands on Engineer's shoulder. He took a deep breath, brought his lips close to Engineer's left ear so the man could properly hear his scream of, "NEED A DISPENSER HERE!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Scout tore away from Engineer and ran out of the courtyard, laughing like a madman.

Ears still ringing, Engineer could only yell back, "Damn it, Scout!"

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**N** is for _nicknames._

"Oh, don't start that, Nancy."

"And don't call me zat!"

"Call ya what, Sally?"

"All zhose female names!"

"But they're such nice names!"

"Not for a man!"

"Fine, I'll call ya something else, cupcake."

"Zat's not any better!"

Sniper walked into the kitchen, but stopped as soon as he saw Soldier and Medic. "Ugh," he groaned.

"What's up, Snipes?" Scout walked up to him.

"Sollly 'n' the doc're fightin' again," he sighed.

"Again?" Scout frowned. "But they were jus' arguin' this morning, too!"

Sniper rolled his eyes. "Oh, trust me, I noticed," he said. "Go get Engie, Poppy. He'll stop 'em."

Scout gave an exaggerated groan of, "Uh, _fine_." He crossed his arms and turned around, heading for Engineer's workshop. Even when he was out of sight, Sniper could hear him wailing, "Engie! Solly 'n' doc're fightin' again! Come fix it!"

Sniper sighed as he walked over to the cabinets to get his Number One Sniper cup. He then poured himself some coffee. He took a sip or two, watching his teammates argue. Again.

Demoman walked in the kitchen. He stopped briefly to watch Soldier and Medic, but those two arguing was a daily thing, so he stepped away after a second or two. "They arguin' again?" he asked Sniper.

"Sure are," Sniper answered.

Demoman rolled his good eye. "Sheesh," he said as he pulled some Scrumpy out of the fridge. "They argue too much. S'gettin' ta be the norm ta see 'em arguin' like this."

"S'better than you 'n' Solly arguing'," Sniper snorted.

"What's tha' supposed ta mean?"

"Demo," Sniper raised an eyebrow at the Scot. "When you 'n' Solly argue always turns into a fist fight."

"Same with 'n' the spook!"

Sniper frowned. "Touché," he said before taking another drink.

"What about me?" Spy suddenly materialized next to Demoman, leaning against the counter.

"Nothin'," Demoman and Sniper answered at the same time.

Spy opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when Scout briskly walked back into the kitchen, arms crossed. He walked up to the three, saying, "Engie's on his way."

"Good," Sniper snorted.

"Ah, _lapin_," Spy watched as Scout got some Bonk! out of the fridge. "Come to watch zhe fireworks as well?"

"Duh," Scout said as he pushed himself on the counter so he could sit on it. "Heavy 'n' Pyro are gonna miss it."

"Let 'em," Demoman shook his head.

"Jus' wait 'till Engie gets in here," Scout grinned "He wasn't too happy when I told him why I needed him."

"Speak of the devil," Sniper nodded towards the kitchen's entrance.

Engineer walked in, a scowl on his face. He looked at the still arguing Medic and Soldier, and then to the other four, all of which who were just standing there. His scowl deepened. "Why in Sam Hell are ya'll jus' sittin' there, watchin' Sol and the doc fightin', and not doin' a damn thing about it?"

"Solly'd eat me," Scout shrugged.

"Eet's none of my business," Spy sniffed.

"Doc would jus' yell at me," Sniper looked at his drink.

"I'm drunk," Demoman answered unconvincingly before taking a swig of his drink.

Engineer sighed and shook his head. "What are they even arguin' 'bout this time?"

"Nicknames."

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**N** is for _name_.

"Scout! _Nein_! Don't go out by yourself!"

Scout didn't listen to Medic's warning. He just ran out of the base, through the resupply room, and onto the map that used to be Well. It didn't exactly look as it normally did. Smoke was wafting through the air. But it wasn't coming from the train that regularly passed by. No, it was from the debris, the debris that littered the entire field. Bullet shells, concrete, discarded weapons, metallic bodies –you name it- all covered the field. Some of everything was on fire, but the flames were dying down. Both the RED and BLU bases were crumpling. The buildings had never seen this much damage before and couldn't handle it. But then again, who would have guessed a wave of lookalike robots was coming to attack both RED and BLU?

Neither RED or BLU, that's for sure. The wave had caught both groups off guard. Gray Mann had sent them, the Administrator said. They were to fight them together, the Administrator said. Respawn was down, the Administrator said. If they die, they would die for real. Respawn might be able to hold onto them and send them to a different spawn point, but that was unlikely. But they had to fight. They were fighting for their lives. And for the most part, they had all won. They had escaped with their lives; they had defeated the wave of robots that attacked Well. At least, to their knowledge they had. The REDs had to evacuate immediately after the long fight, however. Their base had been targeted by the robots first, so they took the most damage. As did their base. And Scout was sure that was where Spy was.

If the enemy attacked there, Spy had to go there to attack, to get behind the enemy and strike. It was a good thing the BLUs had yet to evacuate Well. They would in an hour. So Scout had an hour to try and find Spy. No, not try. Find. He would find Spy. Everyone had made it back to base except him, so he was still somewhere out on Well, alive. He _had_ to be. If all the REDs made it out and the rest of his team had, Scout was going to be damn sure Spy had, too. As Scout raced across the map, he stopped every so often to check under a pile of debris, around a crate, or among a pile of metal bodies, but didn't find what he was looking for. He crossed the railroad tracks, heading for the RED base. Now and again, Scout would call the only word he could gasp out:

"Spy!"

For the longest of time, silence just answered him. Or the sound of metal crumbling. Or the sound of fire cackling. Or the sound of falling concrete or wood. Most of which was coming from the RED base. How much longer would it last? Scout didn't know, didn't care- he had to check in there. He slowed down as he got near the building. Clutching his Force-A-Nature close, he warily entered the RED base. There could still be a robot functioning. But as he entered the base, it didn't seem likely. God, and he thought _outside_ had looked bad. Stairs had fallen, chunks of torn concrete everywhere, metal pieces lodged in places they shouldn't be, bricks and stone crumpling, and dust floating about. Scout watched as a brick dislodged itself from the wall and fell to the ground, unsettling dust. Soon enough, the entire base would do that. He hadn't much time.

Scout stepped further into the base, maneuvering around debris. Taking the stairs up to the Sniper hang out wasn't an option; there weren't even any stairs there. Getting to the second floor would be tough and dangerous. Maybe he wouldn't have to. Scout walked around a large chunk of concrete separated from the wall. One of the RED resupply rooms was behind it. Or at least what was left of it. The room had too much debris in it and the ceiling had caved. Aside from poking his head in, Scout couldn't go in. With a sigh, he turned to his right. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. There, underneath what was left of the wooden stairs that led to the Sniper hang out, was a body. But this one wasn't made of metal.

"Spy!" Scout sprinted over.

As he kneeled next to Spy, Scout couldn't help but notice how god-awful he looked. Spy's suit was torn all over and covered in dust. Blood and oil had dried across it. He was missing a glove. His balaclava had a rip on the neck. Blood was on the concrete underneath the man's head.

"No!" Scout's widened at the sight of blood around Spy's head. He threw his Force-A-Nature to the ground and began to push the pieces of fallen wood off Spy's body. Then, with much effort, Scout pulled Spy's body out from under the crumbling stairs. He could only manage moving Spy a few feet, though. He had just fought a horde of robots, after all. Scout dropped down next to Spy again. "Spy, c'mon, man. Wake up." He nudged Spy's arm.

Nothing.

"Spy, wake up," Scout said louder.

Again nothing.

God, was he even breathing? He _had_ to be. Spy had to be breathing. "Spy!" Scout leaned over the other man, bringing his ear to the other's chest. Scout's breathing was getting too panicky and quick and he couldn't tell whether or not Spy's heart was going. Letting out a small whine, Scout straightened up and moved his hands to Spy's balaclava. He rolled it up the neck a bit, but not enough to see the other's face. Scout took two fingers and pressed them against Spy's neck.

_Nothing_.

Scout sucked in a sharp breath. He moved his fingers, searching. He moved them again and again for what seemed like an hour, but couldn't find anything. As he searched for a pulse, Scout's hands started to shake. "No, no, fucking hell no," he mumbled. There had to be a pulse somewhere. "Spy, c'mon! You've gotta be okay!" His hands were shaking too much, that was why he couldn't find it. That had to be it. Scout put his hands on one of Spy's arms and shook it, saying desperately, "Spy, _please_ wake up."

Spy didn't answer. He looked like he was sleeping. He didn't look hurt or dead, just like he was sleeping.

"Spy!" Scout cried, continuing to shake the other's arm. "Fucking wake up! Don't leave us! Don't…" his voice faltered. "Don't leave me…" He finally stopped shaking Spy's arm after a moment. He gave a wordless cry as he let go. He brought a hand up to his mouth and sucked in a breath. What now? Scout… didn't know what to do.

Out of the corner of his eye, Scout saw something. He looked over. Near Spy's feet was a card, a playing card.

Scout reached over to pick it up, hand shaking. It was a joker card. Scout froze. After a moment, he reached back over to Spy and lifted up part of his suit jacket. More cards were in one of the inside pockets. Scout dropped the jacket like it burned him.

That fucking bastard.

Spy was carrying _cards_? Those cards he carried with him all the time? Those cards he shuffled when he needed to think? Those cards he always used when he played with Scout? Those _cards_ he _shouldn't_ have been carrying! Why carry cards when Spy could have carried an extra knife or gun to better defend himself with?

"Why?" Scout whispered, sucking in another breath. "Why w-would…" He dropped the card. Then he felt something, something pricking in his eyes. Were they tears? It had been a long time since he last cried. He reached up to check. His eyes were watering.

No. No, damn it. This wasn't supposed to happen. Scout was supposed to find Spy alive! _Alive._ Not like this.

"No," Scout whispered again, shaking his head. "Fuck no. Spy, no." Trembling, he covered his eyes with the back of one hand, while the other gripped one of Spy's sleeves. "Spy!" he cried, lowering his head. His whole body began to shake, but he tried to stop it. He tried. He really tried, but he couldn't. As his body shook, trembled in grief, Scout opened his mouth to gasp out, "Jérôme!"

Scout didn't know how long he was just sitting there with his head lowered and eyes clenched shut. He was just trying to stop the tears. And after a bit, they did. Not because he ran out of tears. Mostly because Scout heard a voice say, "I thought I told you never to use my real name."

Scout blinked, tore his hand away from his face, and looked over.

Spy looked back at him. Nothing had moved but the man's eyes. His deep blue eyes were open, looking at Scout.

Scout jumped, tore his other hand away from Spy's sleeve. His eyes were wide. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to say something, but couldn't.

"_Bonjour_, _lapin_," Spy said quietly. "What… what 'appened? Did we beat zhe robots? Are zey gone?"

Scout tried to say something, anything. His voice faltered a few times before he was finally able to get out, "I-I thought you were dead."

"Ah, but I am not," Spy tried to grin and ended up looking rather crude. "I… I am fine. Well, mostly... Tell me, _lapin_, what-"

"_I thought you were dead_," Scout repeated, voice strained.

Spy stopped. He took a moment to look at Scout.

Scout's face was stricken with something Spy couldn't identify, his eyes were wide and wet, and his fists were now clenched at his sides. Scout's breathing was uneven and shaky. For once, Spy couldn't read Scout's face. Was he mad? Was he sad? Horrified? Scout… Scout had thought Spy was dead. Dead. Gone forever. No more.

It was Spy's turn to open and close his mouth without being able to utter a word. He-he couldn't… Spy lifted his gloveless hand and moved his arm. It hurt. He was sore all over, but he had to. The hand found Scout's wrist. If Spy reached for his hand or anything else, Scout would probably jerk away. This would have to do. Spy gave the wrist a squeeze. "You know what, _lapin_? So did I."

Scout unclenched his fists, blinking. His face became blank as he stared at Spy. He quickly looked down at the hand squeezing his wrist, before looking back at Spy.

"I… I thought I was dead as well," Spy admitted, voice quiet. He looked away briefly. "Thought as I blacked out zat eet was going to be zhe end." Spy looked back at Scout, giving the other another smile, a better one. One that wasn't crude, or his usual amused one. Just a simple smile. "But zen-zen, I 'eard zis voice. A voice calling my name. _My name_. There is only one person I 'ave told my name to around 'ere."

Scout found the corners of his lips twitching up.

"But I remember," Spy paused, pretending to look confused. "I remember telling zem not to ever utter my name. _Ever_. For if zey did, oh, zhe things I would 'ave to do."

Scout smiled now.

"Yet 'ere zey were," Spy said, looking at Scout. "Calling my name. Thinking I was dead. Thinking I was gone. 'ere zey were." He squeezed the wrist one more time. "Thank you, Scout."

"Uh-huh…" Scout said slowly, giving a single nod. He brought his other hand up to quickly scrub as his eyes. Stupid eyes wouldn't stop leaking…

Spy frowned. He released Scout's wrist and slowly moved his gloveless hand to Scout's other forearm. He grabbed it and pulled Scout's arm and hand away from his eyes, which were red. "You should not 'ave shed tears for me."

Scout felt his face get hot. "Damn straight I shouldn't have!" he snapped, pulling his arm away from Spy's grasp. He looked away. "'Cause you were jus' lyin' there, pretendin' to be dead. You fucking disappearing jackass." Scout continued to curse at Spy as he started scrubbing his eyes once more.

Spy laughed, but it quickly turned into a pained wheeze. "Ah, I feel like a train 'it me," he admitted, frowning.

Scout jumped, ceasing all eye-scrubbing. "What's wrong? What's the matter?" he asked quickly.

"My 'ead, mostly," Spy reached a hand to the back of his head. "It 'urts like a- Ah, there's zhe problem."

"What?"

"I 'ave got a bump zhe size of an egg on zhe back of my 'ead," Spy frowned. "Something must of 'it me or fallen on me and knocked me out."

"Is that it? Is that all that's wrong with you?" Scout asked.

Spy was able to let out a painless chuckle. "I doubt it," he said, as he started to shift. "I feel sore all over." He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness quickly stopped that.

"Here," Scout started to help.

It took a while, but Spy could only move so fast. He had that bump on his head, he was pretty sure something was wrong or broken with his other hand, he had cuts and bruises all over, and his stomach was screaming at him. He hoped it had something to do with hunger. But Scout helped him. It took a good ten minutes before Spy was able to stand up. And even then Scout had to help support him. But they were both alive and they were both going to be okay. Scout had radioed the rest of the team, telling them they were on their way. It would take a while to get back to base, but they were going to get there. They were going to.

"Spy?" The two had made it outside of the RED base and were now moving towards the railroad tracks. They had been mostly silent as they walked on, until Scout spoke up.

"Hmm?"

"Sorry I said your name out loud."

"…" Spy let his eyes slink down to the Bostonian who was supporting him. "Eet is alright. You may… may use eet again. In zhe future, if you wish."

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**N** is for _no_.

"Aw, c'mon, Engie," Demoman whined. "Don't take away me Scrumpy!"

"I said no, Demo! Yer not drinkin' that much in one day!"

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A/N: Whoops. I tried to write a sad. I greatly debated changing "name" multiple times. I prolly should have. Not too happy with it.

The focus in "nicknames" was supposed to be the common nicknames the BLUs call one another. I hope that was apparent…

I also don't like Mann vs. Machine. I don't really play it much, which is why I didn't use one of Mann vs. Machine's maps and instead used Well. Sorry, folks.

Also sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out! Midterms came around and I had to study for them. And after midterms were done I actually had to write the chapter! It just took time. Sorry once again!


	15. O is for overtime

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**O** is for _over-heal_.

"Medic," Soldier said over their radio system in an oddly calm voice.

"Vhat is it, Soldier?" Medic replied, bringing a hand up to the earpiece in his right ear.

"Would you kindly stop _over-healing_ Heavy and come and _heal me_ before _I die_?!" Soldier roared through the system.

Medic cringed at the intensity of the other's voice. "Alright, alright. I'm on my vay. _Mein Gott_, somevone voke up on zhe vrong side of zhe bed zis morning…"

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**O** is for _octopus_.

"Gah!" Scout jumped awake, shooting straight up into a sitting position.

At the foot of his bed, Lyra jumped awake, too. She looked around, alarmed, before looking at Scout with a questioning stare.

"Oh my god, Lyra," Scout said, looking at the cat. "I jus' had the weirdest dream. Spy was in it! But he didn't have any legs! He had tentacles instead! Tentacles from, like, and octopus or something!"

Lyra meowed, tilting her head at Scout.

"Yeah," Scout put a hand on his head. "I gotta stop drinkin' Bonk! before I go to sleep."

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**O** is for _overreacting_.

"Now, Medic, jus' calm down! Don't you think you're overactin' just a little bi-"

"Overreacting?!" Medic repeated loudly and angrily. He looked furious. No, beyond furious. Was that possible? It had to be possible because Medic was pulling it off very nicely right about now. "Soldier came into my infirmary vith some of Demoman's bombs vhere zey zen proceeded to _explode_ and nearly destroy zhe _entire_ infirmary. And you zhink I'm overacting?!"

Engineer opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking much like a fish. He was trying to think of some way to defend Soldier. Sadly, nothing was coming to him. "You're right. I got nothin'. Continue on with your overactin', err, reactin'."

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**O** is for _overtime_.

The BLUs were winning. They had this one in the bag. Battling it out at Harvest today had gone well. Spy had harassed the RED Sniper so much he was getting bored. And while Spy was getting bored with the RED Sniper, Sniper was getting bored of shooting the RED Heavy and RED Medic. The RED Engineer hadn't been able to put up his sentry for more than a minute before it was destroyed by Demoman or Soldier. After capping the control point, Scout simply ran around, shooting whoever. He was getting tired, though. Engineer had mostly just watched his sentry all match. Pyro stalked their base, looking for a certain RED Spy to light up. Both teams were wearing down, though. The BLUs were tired from keeping the REDs from the point, and the REDs were tired from trying to cap the point. It was a good thing the day was almost over.

But the RED Scout thought he would give it one more shot. He ran past Heavy and Medic, headed for the control point. He entered the small shed sheltering the point only to find Scout there. They were both about to start shooting, but a sudden voice caused them both to freeze. A single word rang over the entire field: "Overtime!"

Every mercenary, RED and BLU, froze after hearing that voice. They then all turned to stare at the speakers it came out of. Then they all groaned.

At the point, both Scouts lowered their weapons and loudly groaned. They both looked at the point, which was wavering between the colors of red and blue. Both Scouts looked at each other and grinned. They both then stepped off the point, but stayed in sight of one another. The control point started to become a bright shade of blue.

"You guys're already gonna win," the RED Scout shrugged. "It's your point."

"Oh, no," Scout shook his head, still grinning. "It wouldn't be right without givin' yous a fair chance at it."

"No, no," the RED Scout held up his hands. "Yous have been winnin' all day. It's your point."

"I insist ya try," Scout motioned to the point, which was steadily becoming bluer.

"Are ya sure?" the RED Scout grinned back, crossing his arms uncertainly.

"Quite," Scout said smartly.

"Well, if yous insist," the RED Scout said as he jumped on the point. A red shade started to cover it. The RED Scout then promptly started tap dancing on it. He was pretty good. He wasn't able to dance for long, however.

With a whack from his Sandman, Scout's baseball hit him square in the head.

Seeing stars, the RED Scout teetered off the control point. "Nice aim there, pally."

"Why thank you," Scout said as he hoped onto the point. A blue shade started to take it over again. Holding his bat, Scout started doing the cancan. It was very necessary to do for point capping.

After a moment, the RED Scout jumped back on the point, which stopped getting bluer and wavered between blue and red again. He ignored that and promptly joined Scout in doing the cancan.

As the Scouts goofed around on the point, not trying to cap it at all, Soldier approached the RED Soldier. "Rocket jumping contest?" he said to the other.

"You're on!"

"Highest jump wins!" Soldier shouted before launching himself into the air.

"Best two out of three!" the RED Soldier called as he rocket jumped into the air as well.

"Tha's not fair," the RED Demoman frowned, watching the two Soldiers rocket jump around Harvest. "Why didn't they invite us ta rocket jump with 'em?"

"Ah, who cares? They're nutty Soldiers," Demoman waved them off. "I gotta a few bombs left. Wanna play some Hot Potato?"

"Only if ya got a crit bomb."

"Sure do!"

"Yah! Let's do it!"

As the Demomen started tossing bombs back and forth, the Heavies and Medics approached each other. Heavy set his Minigun down. "Come," he said to the RED Heavy. "We fight like real men." He held up his fists.

The RED Heavy laughed, setting his gun down to hold up his fists as well. "Fight me, coward!"

The two Heavies charged at one another, throwing punches. Both the Medics watched, Medi Guns trained on their teammates. They cheered the Heavies on. But with the Heavies just throwing punches and being healed continuously, it would be a long fight. Ah, well. It was overtime after all.

Up on the second floor of the RED base, the RED Sniper sighed and leaned against the wall. He didn't even blink as Spy materialized in front of him.

"Smoke?" Spy offered a cigarette.

"Could use one right 'bout now, yeah," the RED Sniper took it and lit it.

After a moment of silence, Spy asked, "What time is eet?"

"I dunno," the RED Sniper looked at his watch. "My watch is broken. But hold up." He suddenly leaned out of a window. "Oi, BLU Sniper!" the RED Sniper called loudly.

In the second floor of the BLU base, Sniper leaned out of a window. He caught sight of the RED Sniper leaning out of a window of the RED base. Spy was leaning out of one behind the RED. "Wot d'ya want?!" he called back.

"Got the time?!"

Sniper blinked. He looked at his watch and grinned. He cupped his hands to smarmily yell back, "Overtime, mate!"

"Overtime?!" Nearly every mercenary on the field yelled after hearing that. "Ha!" They then all began laughing before going back to their goofing off.

Somewhere, far away and in her office, the Administrator popped a vein.

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A/N: Go home, overtime. You're drunk and nobody likes you.

This chapter was brought to you by the letter L. L is for lazy. Because I was incredibly lazy with this chapter. I had more O letters, I really did, but I just didn't use them. Let's just say I got writer's block with this chapter, yeah?

And another thing! I will be attending an anime convention called Naka-Kon. It takes place March 15-17 (2013 dur) in the Kansas City area (Kansas, USA). I'll be there all weekend. I wanted to say that updating will more than likely be a bit slower now, especially after that. Spring Break will cease after it and I'll have another class added to my schedule after it. I'll still try and update as quickly as I can, though! And I know people are spread far and wide on the internet, but hey, if you're in the area, hell if you're _going_ to Naka-Kon, feel free to try and find me. I'll be cosplaying as the BLU Scout and Zelda (Skyward Sword version) from the Legend of Zelda. Come and say hello! I'd love to meet some of you!


	16. P is for plan

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**P** is for _Payload_.

"You failed!"

The Administrator's voice still rang loud and clear in all the BLUs' ears. Their battle at Badwater Basin had not gone well. And as they found themselves back at base, Engineer couldn't help but mull over the loss. He hated pointing fingers, but he couldn't help but feel he had to point at someone for this loss. And he found that someone in the living room, sitting on the couch and moping as well.

Engineer walked over to Scout. "Why didn't you wait at the cart? You were supposed to wait there!" he said a bit angrily.

Scout sunk in his seat. He looked away from Engineer and didn't answer.

"Scout!" Engineer pressed. "Do you not understand? Do you want this team to lose?"

Scout crossed his arms, still not saying anything.

"Answer me," Engineer said while trying to catch Scout's eyes.

"No," Scout said, pouting.

Engineer raised an eyebrow. "No you don't understand?" he asked.

"No," Scout repeated.

"No _what_?" With one hand, Engineer grabbed Scout by a shoulder and forced the Bostonian to look at him.

Scout pushed the Texan's hand away. "No!" he whined before dramatically falling into the couch. Face pressed into a small pillow, he began mumbling incoherently into it.

Engineer sighed just as dramatically. "You are such a pain," he said, shaking his head.

Scout suddenly shot up from the couch. Glaring at Engineer, he snapped, "Then why don't you trade me? Get a Balloonicorn instead!" He started to head for his room.

Engineer followed him, replying, "At least the Balloonicorn would play better than you!"

"Go ahead, do it!" Scout looked over his shoulder to continue his steady glare. "Then you'd be happy 'cause it be smarter than me, too!"

"And _quieter_!" Engineer added.

Scout arrived at his room and opened his door. But before he went in he turned to shout at Engineer, "Yeah, you'd like it 'cause it's _stinky_ like you!" He then ran into his room, making sure to slam his door shut.

Engineer stopped a few feet away from Scout's door. "Go to your _room_!" he shouted.

Scout opened his door to poke his head out. "I'm already in my _room_!" he shouted back before slamming his door shut once more.

Engineer stomped back to the living room, where he then promptly grabbed a small pillow from the couch. Smacking it to his face, he yelled into it. "Urrrrgh!"

Back in his room, Scout jumped into his bed. He buried his face into his pillow, which then muffled his scream. "Mmmrrrph!"

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**P** is for _Pyro_.

Pyro stared at his plate in front of him, pushing his broccoli around with his fork. He wasn't feeling very hungry for some reason. With a sigh, he looked up.

And was met with eight pairs of eyes looking back at him.

Pyro jumped in surprise. Why was the rest of his team just staring at him like that? "Uhhn," he started. "Cnn Myie helnf ynn?"

The rest of the team now jumped. Sniper and Engineer both suddenly shoveled mouthfuls of potatoes into their mouths.

Medic and Heavy started talking to each other.

Scout shrugged before saying some to Spy, who just nodded and took a sip of his wine.

Soldier suddenly elbowed Demoman in the side.

Demoman glared at Soldier before rolling his eye. Setting his booze down, he looked at Pyro. "Actually, lad," he said. "There is somethin' ye can help us with."

Beneath his mask, Pyro blinked. "Whnph?"

Demoman opened his mouth, tried to say something, failed, and coughed into his hand. "Well," he started to say. "We all been wonderin' aboot somethin' fer a while now." Demoman was trying too hard to look nonchalant. "Figured it be best just ta ask ya…"

"Whnph?"

Demoman drummed his fingers on the table. "Look, I'ma be real blunt aboot it," he said as he looked at Pyro. "Are you a girl?"

And suddenly all those eight pairs of eyes were on Pyro again.

Pyro stopped. He looked back at all his teammates, who were surely waiting for an answer. Beneath his mask, Pyro frowned. He sighed as he set his fork down. Pyro then proceeded to present his middle finger to the entire team.

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**P** is for _pancakes_.

Scout liked Sundays. Loved 'em. And not just because they were ceasefire days. That was already pretty nice itself. No running, jumping, point capping, or dodging bullets while trying to reach some Intel (not that it wasn't fun, but one needed a break). Sundays (and Saturdays, but Scout still liked Sundays more) were for relaxing. The entire BLU team got to hang around the base all day and do absolutely nothing if they pleased. It was awesome. But the ceasefire and the entire day of relaxing wasn't even the best part. The best part of Sunday was that every Sunday-

"Wakey-wakey, Scout!"

No. No, no, no, no. That was not the best part of Sundays. Having Soldier kick the door down (Scout really needed to start locking that at night) and yelling to for you to wake up wasn't the best part of Sundays. It wasn't a good thing no matter what day of the week it was.

Scout groaned, burying his head beneath his pillow. "Solly," he grumbled. "How many times do I hafta tell ya? Don't do that! It's a Sunday!"

"And how many times do I have to tell _you_ that we need you up earlier than this? Nearly everyone's awake. If you wanna make-"

"Alright, alright," Scout interrupted Soldier. "I'll get up; just get out!"

Grinning, Soldier left Scout's room, slamming the door shut behind him. Scout could hear him yelling something about a cyclops, so Scout could only assume he was going to wake Demoman up next.

Scout pulled his head out from underneath his pillow. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was eight-nineteen. Scout groaned and pushed his face into his pillow once more. Eventually, he found the will to get out of bed and slink out of his room and to the kitchen.

As Scout approached the kitchen, a mixture of wonderful aromas hit his nose. Coffee was first, but the smell of bacon was pretty strong as well. The eggs were difficult to smell over everything else, so Scout only noticed them once he actually got to the kitchen. This was why he loved Sundays. Every Sunday, the entire team would get together to have a big breakfast. It was… really nice. When they first started this, they tried to mix up who would make what, but after a few trial and errors (they would never forget Demoman's attempted omelets), a few of the BLUs had specific jobs. Engineer always made the bacon. Spy scrambled the eggs. Pyro usually made and buttered the toast. Sniper brewed the coffee.

And Scout made the pancakes. They were kind of the only thing he was really good at making. They were also something he really loved. Seriously. They were his favorite food in the entire world. He would make enough to last all week until the next Sunday. He also always had to make a lot because the rest of his team ate, like, a _million_ of them. Hey, they were really good pancakes. So Scout got started as soon as he walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a giant bowl, milk, flour, butter, and all the other ingredients he would need to make pancakes. The stove was already crowded with Engineer making the bacon and Spy scrambling the eggs, but Scout pushed his way next to them. He began to mix everything together.

Engineer looked up from his bacon frying to watch Scout whisk. "You sure slept in."

"I did not," Scout grumbled, keeping his eyes on his batter. "You jus' get up too early."

"It's eight-thirty!"

"Exactly, that's too early!" Scout said, looking up.

"That's not early."

"Maybe to an old guy like you."

Engineer chuckled. "Your batter almost done? Need some room on the skillet?"

"Yeah," Scout nodded, looking back into the batter. "Move your ass, Spy. Your eggs're scrambled enough."

"And 'ow would you know zat?" Spy said, shifting the eggs around with a spatula.

"'Cause ya been there forever, move!" Scout whined impatiently.

Spy rolled his eyes. He grabbed his frying pan and moved away from the skillet. As he walked over to the table, he made sure to tell Scout, "You should really be wearing _un tablier_. Wouldn't want to get your clothes dirty."

"Ha ha, _right_," Scout spat back. He grabbed a clean frying pan and set it on the skillet. Scout started pouring batter into it.

As Scout made pancake after pancake, the rest of the BLUs started gathering at the table. Medic and Heavy were already sitting down, both reading the newspaper. Pyro had just finished toasting an entire loaf of bread and was now setting the table. Sniper was setting coffee and other assorted drinks on the table as well. Engineer finished up at the skillet and brought over a large plate piled with bacon. Spy set his scrambled eggs next to them. Soldier and Demoman were still absent.

As Scout brought over a large plate stacked high with freshly made pancakes, Engineer looked around the kitchen. "Now, where are Solly 'n' Demo?"

"You know how heavy of a sleeper Demo is," Sniper shrugged before sitting down.

"I'll go get 'em," Engineer sighed, making to leave the kitchen.

"No, I got it, Engie," Scout said as he set the pancakes down. He walked over to the kitchen doorway. He didn't go searching for the two. He just screamed at the top of his lungs, "Solly! Demo! Get in here now or we'll eat everything 'n' leave nothin' for you! Not even any-a my pancakes!"

The rest of the BLUs had never seen Soldier and Demoman move so fast.

Scout loved Sundays. He got to laze around the base and not worry about work all day. He got to have a giant, awesome breakfast with his teammates. He got to make pancakes, his absolute favorite food in the whole world. The he got to enjoy those pancakes with his team. Sundays were awesome.

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**P** is for _plan_.

Spy, Heavy, Medic, and Scout all peaked into the RED courtyard. The RED Soldier, RED Pyro, and RED Demoman were all gathered there. The BLUs all turned to each other.

"I hate zhe RED Pyro," Medic groaned. "Vhat's zhe plan for getting past those REDs?"

Spy looked thoughtful. After a moment he grinned, saying, "Live bait."

Medic nodded. "Good idea- hey, vait…" he said when he noticed Spy was grinning at him and Heavy.

"Oh, come on, Medic," Spy crossed his arms. "You two need to create a diversion so Scout and I can get past zem to get to zhe Intel."

"Vhat do vant us to do? Dress in drag and do zhe hula?" Medic snapped sarcastically.

Spy brought a hand to his chin, thinking. He suddenly reached into his suit and pulled two things out. He gave a Sandvich to Heavy and put a hat on Medic. Before either could react, Spy then promptly pushed the two out into the RED courtyard.

As Heavy and Medic stumbled into the courtyard, all the REDs snapped their attention to them. Guns were pointed at them immediately.

But before the REDs could fire, Medic did the one thing he could think of at the moment- the very thing he just suggested. "_Luau_!" Dress in drag and do the hula, that is. How Spy had found his Geisha Boy hat, Medic would never know (he could have sworn he hid the thing where nobody would find it long ago…).

Medic would worry about that later. He had to distract the REDs right now. He started off fairly well. Not recognizing that word Medic just spat out, the REDs just stared in confusion.

So Medic carried on. "_If you're hungry for a hunk and fat juicy meat eat my buddy Heavy here because he is a treat_," he motioned to Heavy, who simply stood there eating his Sandvich. "_Come on down and dine on zis tasty svine all you haf to do is get in line!_" Medic was weirdly throwing in some hula moves he knew. Maybe those hula lessons he was forced to take as a kid had come in handy after all...

The RED Pyro mumbled something, but the RED Demoman and RED Soldier were too busy staring to reply.

"_Are you aching-_"

"_Yup, yup, yup_," Heavy said, still chewing.

"_For some bacon_?"

"_Yup, yup, yup_."

With the three REDs continuously staring at Medic and Heavy, Spy and Scout slinked by and up some stairs leading to their resupply room. The REDs never even noticed them as they disappeared and headed for the Spiral.

"_He's a big pig_," Medic motioned to Heavy again.

"_Yup, yup_," Heavy agreed, finishing his Sandvich.

"_You could be a big pig too! OY!_" Medic finished with an awkward pose.

A sticky bomb was suddenly thrown between Heavy and Medic. They both looked down at it. "AHHHH!" They then screamed as it exploded, turned tail, and ran out of the RED courtyard with the three REDs in pursuit.

At least the plan _worked_…

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**P** is for _Poppy_.

"Why?" Sniper looked over his aviator glasses and at Scout. "Ya really want ta know?"

"I wouldn't be askin' if I didn't," Scout snorted and crossed his arms. It was clear from his posture that he wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

Sniper stared for a moment. He figured he could humor Scout. "Ya remind me of my sister," he finally said.

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, I've got a younger sister," Sniper explained, leaning back in his chair. He didn't look at Scout. "She's jus' like you. Y'know, real talkative and annoying, always gettin' inta trouble, and really easy to read. She liked running, like you. It was one of her favorite pastimes, actually."

Scout didn't say anything, choosing to ignore the few (sort of) insults Sniper had mentioned. He focused on the running compliment.

"Anyways," Sniper shook his head. "She really liked flowers. Liked 'em more than runnin'. My mum let her grow a few flowers out on the farm. All she grew were poppies. She really loved them flowers. One of her many nicknames was Poppy 'cause of it. She still grows poppies today." He paused. "At least I think she does. I haven't seen her lately. Been a couple years since I have…" Sniper trailed off again, staring off into the distance.

Scout still didn't say anything.

Sniper suddenly coughed and shifted in his seat. "But, yeah," he looked at Scout. "That's why I call ya that. Ya jus' remind me of my sister."

"She sounds cool 'n' all," Scout said. "And I don't mind ya callin' me that, but there's just one thing I gotta make clear: I don't like flowers like her, that's for sure."

Sniper chuckled, nodding his head. "Whatever ya say, Poppy," he grinned. "Whatever ya say."

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A/N: Whoa. College and conventions really keep you from writing. Sorry, guys. I'm getting bad with updating… And to the Guest who asked (Inbred Reindeer, I believe): Because you are a Guest I cannot reply to you properly. If you have an account here, please PM me so I can properly reply.

Scout and Disney references.

Scout and Disney references everywhere.

And.

Pyro? A girl?

…

Ha ha. That's funny. Really.

I'll only believe it once Valve says it's so.


	17. Q is for quench

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**Q** is for _quench_.

Demoman sat at the kitchen table, swallowing down a bottle of Scrumpy. With long, repeated gulps, he was able to guzzle down half the bottle in one go. Then, with a sigh, he set the bottle on the table.

Engineer, who sat across from him, raised an eyebrow. "Were all them sound affects really necessary?"

"Sorry, boyo," Demoman chuckled. "Just quenchin' me thrist."

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**Q** is for _Quick-Fix_.

The battle had just begun at Hightower. The Engineers were already getting frustrated about their sentries getting destroyed in less than a minute. The Snipers were sniping each other and only each other. And the Demomen and Soldiers were rocket jumping all over. A normal day at Hightower. And because they were at Hightower, Medic found himself spending less time with Soldier and Demoman. Like said, the two were too busy rocket jumping all over. They didn't stay with Medic for long if they needed him. And Medic was fine with that. He would stick with Pyro and Heavy.

Currently, though, Medic was in the resupply room. He was planning to switch his Medi Gun for his Kritzkrieg. _Planning_ to. For when he opened the locker that held all his weapons, something tumbled out. It was a gun he'd never seen before. Medic raised an eyebrow and picked it up. A small note was attached to it. "Zhe Quick-Fix?" Medic read aloud. Oh, not a syringe gun. That was fine, but what else? Only the name of it was on the card, nothing else… Medic shrugged and stood up. He supposed he would find out what was so special about it in battle.

As Medic ran back out onto the battlefield, he heard his name being called. "Medic!" Soldier yelled as he landed next to the German. "Mind healin' me real fast before ya look for Heavy?"

"_Ja_," Medic pointed the gun at Soldier. It healed him a bit faster than his normal Medi Gun, but didn't over-heal like a few of his other guns. Medic wondered if it did something more or if that was all…

"Thanks, Nancy," Soldier said when he felt better. "I'm off!" He pointed his Rocket Launcher at the ground and blasted into the air. The healing beam from the Quick-Fix stretched for a bit and still followed Soldier.

Medic paid no mind to it and was about to turn and look for Heavy, but couldn't. For as soon as Soldier jumped into the air, he felt himself being pulled along as well! Not knowing how he was doing it and being launched into the air in the first place, not surprisingly, caused Medic to scream. "AHHH!"

Soldier, after landing on the tower in the middle of the map and hearing Medic scream, turned to look and see what was causing Medic to scream. But… Soldier didn't see him. He couldn't have moved far from where Soldier had left him… Hell, he hadn't even left him alone for more than a few seconds! Where was Medic? Soldier found out when Medic landed on top of him. "Gauugh!" he yelled in surprise when Medic hit him.

"Ahh-" Medic cut himself off as he landed atop Soldier. A second later, he let a pained grunt.

They both lay there for a few seconds, blinking.

"How…" Medic broke the small silence. "How did I get up here?"

"I will worry about that," Soldier piped up. "After you get off my ribcage and allow me to breathe properly."

"Oh!" Medic quickly and shakily stood up. "Sorry, Soldier."

Soldier sucked in a deep breath before standing up as well. "It's fine," he rubbed his lower back, frowning. "Now, as Engie would say, how in Sam Hell did you get up here?"

"I-I don't know," Medic said. "Vone minute I'm down zhere and zhe next I'm up here!"

Soldier tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm," he hummed, looking at Medic. He suddenly caught sight of Medic's Quick-Fix. He raised an eyebrow. "That a new gun?"

Medic blinked in surprise. "You could tell?" he asked. "I just found it today. I haf never used it before. I don't know if it does anything special yet, though."

"…" Soldier kept staring at it. "Did the healing beam disconnect from me when I rocket jumped away?"

"No," Medic frowned. "You know how zey can stretch for a vhile. Vhat are you getting at?"

Soldier snapped his fingers. "That's it!" he pointed to the Quick-Fix. "That gun is why you were able to get up here!"

"Vhat?"

"The healing beam, cupcake," Soldier explained. "It never disconnected from me. I bet the gun allows you to rocket jump with me! Maybe with Demo, too!"

"Vhat?" Medic repeated in a scoff. "Zat's ridiculous-"

"No, no," Soldier cut him off. "Here, heal me again first. I think you broke a few ribs."

Medic trained the Quick-Fix onto Soldier. The healing beam swirled around him.

"Good," Soldier grinned. "Now we'll test it out."

"Vhat-"

But it was too late. Soldier rocket jumped and once again Medic felt himself being pulled along. It was… interesting, to say the least. Medic just didn't like the feeling of no ground being beneath his feet. It made him scream. Unintentionally, of course. That, and the landing wasn't all that great.

Soldier landed easily, right on the Sniper hangout.

Medic, however, promptly landed right on top of him. Again.

"Ha!" Despite being crushed by Medic, Soldier still grinned. "It was the gun! Told you, Sally!"

"How stupid," Medic groaned. "Vhy vould I vant a gun zat allows me to jump around vith you?"

"Hey, I like it! Now you can rocket jump around with me!" Soldier's grin fell a little. "I'd also like it if you would get off of me. You're heavier than you look!"

"I am not!" Medic snapped.

"Heh. Yeah, you a-"

"Uh," Soldier and Medic both snapped their heads around when they heard a voice. Sniper stood there, staring at the two of them. "Can I help you two?"

"Nope," Soldier pushed Medic off and stood up. "We were just leaving." He said as he helped Medic stand up.

Medic's eyes widened. "Don't-"

Too late again. Soldier rocket jumped and they were both flying through the air once more. Medic screamed the whole time.

Soldier landed at the top of the tower again. He quickly looked up and was able to step out of the way as Medic landed.

It wasn't a pretty one. Medic's scream was cut off as he landed. He lay there for a moment. "Ugh," Medic then groaned, closing his eyes. "How do you land so easily?"

Soldier helped him sit up. "It's easy once you get some practice," he said. "Don't worry. You'll learn how to properly land soon enough."

Medic's eyes snapped open. "No!" he spat, pushing Soldier away. "I'm not rocket jumping vith you again, Soldier!"

"Why not?"

"Vhy do you think?" Medic scowled.

"Uh, 'cause you're no good at it?"

"Vell… yes!" Medic groaned as he stood up. "But I von't like it!"

"You've only jumped three times!" Soldier countered. "How d'you know you won't _learn_ to like it?"

"Because having no ground beneath my feet isn't a pleasant feeling! And landing hurts!"

"With you? Tell me about it," Soldier muttered. "But like I said, you'll get used to it all! C'mon, Medic, it's really fun. Demo'll tell you the same thing. Why do you think we ignore the cart and rocket jump around Hightower the entire match?"

"Zhere's a cart here?" Medic suddenly asked.

"I've only seen it a few times myself," Soldier shook his head and shrugged. "Anyways, you need to give it a shot! We'll be here at Hightower for a while now. All I'm asking is that you rocket jump with me a few times a day. Y'know, to get some practice in and see if you like it. And if you do, we'll be rocket jumping all over the place! And if you don't, than that's okay, too."

Medic frowned, staring at Soldier. "Just a few times a day?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yep."

"You'll give me tips on how to land properly?"

"Sure can."

"And if I don't like it, you von't bother me to rocket jump vith you again?"

"I'll try not to."

Medic frowned, hesitating. He _had_ always thought it looked fun… He _supposed_ he could get used to having no ground beneath his feet for a few seconds…

"I'll try really, _really_ hard not to bug you."

Medic bit his lip. Finally, he sighed and aimed the Quick-Fix at Soldier once more. "Fine," he spat out.

"Really?" Soldier grinned. "That's great! Let's start now!"

"Vhat-"

"We'll rocket jump over to Sniper's hangout again!" Soldier said as he reloaded his gun. "Here are some quick tips about landing: Firstly, landing on your feet is going to be best. Try to land on them. But don't stiffen up before you land! Relax. Crouching a little before you hit the ground might help, too. Ready?"

"Vhat? N-"

"Here we go!" Soldier rocket jumped and Medic flew up behind him.

That night after the battle, Medic found his legs extremely sore and wobbly. He wouldn't blame the Quick-Fix, though. No, he put all the blame on Soldier and his rocket jumping.

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**Q** is for _quit_.

Scout was beginning to get paranoid. He was just trying to pester the RED Demoman and RED Engineer, but a _certain_ _someone_ wouldn't stop pestering _him_. Scout would go taunt the RED Demoman or RED Engineer, maybe shoot at them a few times, and retreat back to the sewers. Hey, with them both in the RED courtyard it wasn't going to be easy to get past them. So Scout didn't really try and just figured he'd pester them until someone destroyed the RED Engineer's sentry.

And Scout thought when Spy came along he'd finally be able to get past the two REDs and to the Intel. That was a big _no_. Much like Scout, Spy didn't even try to sap the sentry the RED Engineer put up or get past it or the RED Demoman. He, like Scout, just pestered the two REDs. And Scout. Mostly Scout. And Scout was starting to get paranoid because of it. Scout would pester the RED Demoman and run back down to the sewers, only to be pestered by Spy. He would either de-cloak _right in front_ of Scout, yelling "Boo!" or kindly "Spy Check" Scout with a smack to the back of the head (all while he was still invisible, of course). So now Scout felt like he had to worry about two Spies instead of one. And it was annoying the shit out of him.

Scout, still down in the sewers, was reloading his Force-A-Nature. He was about to head back into the RED base, but paused when he heard footsteps. He whipped around, glaring down the tunnel of the sewer. "Spy, I swear to fuckin' god, if you Spy Check me one more time, I will fuckin' _strangle _you," Scout growled into the tunnel. The footsteps suddenly disappeared and the tunnel went silent.

Maybe Spy had realized Scout heard him.

Scout snorted. That'll show Spy that he should be out… spying or something, and not bothering Scout. Scout turned around, still intent on heading into the RED base, and ran right into a solid, invisible something.

Except Scout knew exactly what that something was. And that invisible something had the nerve to reach forward with a hand and flick Scout on the forehead. "Spy Check," Spy sang as he did it.

Scout just stood there for a moment, stunned. Then, bringing a hand to his forehead, he shouted, "Damn it, Spy! Would you fuckin' quit it already?!" He reached forward to punch Spy, but only met empty air. "Bastard!"

Laughter only greeted his words.

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A/N: You guys wanna know what two things should never mix? Colds and college. It's just not right.


	18. R is for run

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**R** is for _RED_.

"Better dead than RED!" Scout taunted.

The RED Demoman, now lying dead a few feet away, could give no reply.

Soldier, flying through the air thanks to a rocket jump, suddenly landed next to Scout. "Nice work!" he congratulated the Bostonian. He watched with disdain as the RED Demoman's body disappeared to respawn. "Man, I hate REDs."

"So pushy," Scout said.

"And hairy," Soldier added.

"And stinky," Scout put in.

"And man are they uuuuuu-gly!" Scout and Soldier sang in unison before bursting into laughter.

Suddenly, something smacked both of them on the head from behind. They both turned around to see Medic standing there, glaring at them. "How about," Medic suggested slowly and angrily. "You actually fight zhe REDs, instead of taunting zem?!"

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**R** is for _roller blades_.

"I merely finished what your liver started," the RED Spy taunted over the Demoman's dead body. As it whisked away to respawn, the RED Spy walked back over to the desk that had the RED Intel sitting upon it. He lit a cigarette.

This was stupid. The RED Spy was not liking this at all, this new plan the RED Soldier had come up with. While most of the RED team was on offense, the RED Spy was on defense. Sure, the RED Engineer and RED Sniper were around their Teufort base too, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he shouldn't be here. The RED Spy should be out in the enemy base, stabbing the BLU Sniper and BLU Engineer in the back! Though the RED Spy would never admit it out loud, he wasn't good at defending the Intel. Despite being a support class, he found he was more offensive than defensive. Defending the Intel was for Engineers. The BLU Scout had already been here multiple times, trying to snatch the Intel and the RED hah barely been able to fend him off.

With a sigh, the RED Spy blew smoke away and out of his lips. As he brought the cigarette back to his lips, he paused. He heard something. Something quickly approaching. The RED Spy couldn't tell what it was, though. It couldn't be a Heavy's Minigun. It didn't sound like a Demoman's bombs exploding. The RED Spy quickly put out his cigarette and cloaked. He wasn't expecting what happened next.

A blue blur suddenly came out the hallway, swiped the RED Intel with surprising speed, and immediately headed out of the opposite hallway. "Wave goodbye to your secret crap, dumbass!" A voice called back.

Realizing what just happened, the RED Spy de-cloaked, yelling, "Zat's cheating!"

"No, it ain't, ya rat!" Scout called back before he roller bladed out of earshot.

Scout skated up the Spiral to the second floor of the RED base and to the RED battlements. The RED Sniper was there, but Scout took care of him with one good swing of his bat. Scout then proceeded to jump down to the ground. He landed with a pained grunt in front of the bridge. That hurt, especially with his roller blades on, but he had some Intel to deliver. Scout pushed back with his left leg, propelling himself across the bridge. He passed by Soldier, who was dueling it out with the RED Medic. They both paused to stare at him, though. Scout paid them no mind. Once inside his base, Scout flew past Engineer and into the courtyard. He skidded to a stop. No matter what, Scout was going to have to go up some stairs. Getting up stairs in roller blades was not going to be easy.

"Aw, jeez!" With a huff, Scout awkwardly made his way up the stairs. "This sucks on- ow, shit, my shin!"

Pyro and the RED Pyro suddenly came around the corner and into the courtyard, flamethrowers spewing flames about. They both stopped to let out muffled giggles at Scout's predicament.

"Aw, go to hell!" Scout yelled at them both, still struggling up the stairs in his roller blades.

As if realizing they were in the middle of a fight, the two Pyros went back to their fire-y battle.

Scout finally made it up the stairs and headed for their Spiral. He skated down it and into the bowels of the BLU base. Once downstairs, he roller bladed into their Intel room, yelling, "I got it, I got it, I got it!"

"Excellent!" Spy, who was standing next to their untouched Intel, smirked. As Scout skated to the desk, they high fived.

"_Victory_!"

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**R** is for _run_.

"Hey, knucklehead, you ain't gonna win!" The RED Scout shouted.

Scout ignored him. Or at least he wished he could.

Scout was running out of the RED base, Intel in hand. And, of course, the only one who could keep up with him was chasing him. The RED Scout. Now, don't get Scout wrong. He could take this guy on any day and kick his ass. Well… except for today right now today. If he could cap this Intel, the BLUs would win! Scout had to focus on capping it, not fighting the RED Scout. Turning around to shoot at him would cause Scout to run slower and thus cause the RED to catch up. And he was already injured. His stomach was bleeding from a bullet wound. Scout was pretty sure if he scrapped with the RED now, he would lose. So just flat out running from was his best option right now.

Now if only he could lose the RED. "Get lost, jackass!" Scout shouted and turned around once to blindly shoot at the RED. Not surprisingly, it missed, so Scout just turned around and ran across the bridge that connected the two bases. He shouldn't have tried that. The RED was getting closer.

The RED Scout shouted back, "Not a chance, pancakes!" He reloaded his gun and fired at Scout, luckily missing him.

Scout ran into his base.

The RED Scout was still at his heels as they ran into the base. "Give it up, ya-" he cut himself off as he screeched to a halt. He stared at what was in front of him.

Well, more like who.

Heavy stood in front of him, Minigun pointed and purring.

Medic was behind him, Medi Gun trained on Heavy.

Pyro was on one side of Heavy. He repeatedly let out small bursts of flames from his flamethrower. Apparently he was anxious to set something ablaze.

Soldier was on the other side of Heavy, ginning as he reloaded his Rocket Launcher. Soon Soldier wasn't the only one grinning.

The group all grinned at the RED Scout.

"Um…" The RED Scout's jaw was on the floor. "This-this does not look good."

Scout suddenly popped up from behind Soldier and stuck out his tongue at the RED Scout. He then turned and jetted off, laughing, "Later, chucklenuts!"

Spy suddenly de-cloaked right in front of the RED Scout. "May I make a suggestion?" he smirked evilly.

The RED Scout swallowed nervously.

"_Run_."

The RED Scout took his advice.

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**R** is for _Rainblower_.

"Alright, I change my mind," Scout said, shaking his head at Pyro's Rainblower. "_That_ is the freakin' weirdest weapon I've ever seen."

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A/N: Guys. You guys. Over 100 reviews. Guys. I love you. You're all awesome. All of you. Thanks. Seriously. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

"Roller blades" was inspired by a picture I saw oh so long ago.

And I still got a few Disney references up my sleeve…


	19. S is for SpyCrab

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**S** is for _Saxton Hale_.

"Now that's power," Soldier was saying.

"Tell me about it," Scout agreed. "I just hear that name 'n' I shudder."

"Saxton Hale," Soldier suddenly said.

"Oh," Scout shuddered. He then grinned. "Do it again."

"Saxton Hale," Soldier said again, grinning as well.

"Oh-h-h-h," Scout really shuddered.

"Saxton Hale, Saxton Hale, Saxton Hale!" Soldier sang causing Scout to shudder once more and then burst into a fit of giggles.

"It tingles!" Scout snorted before erupting into more laughter.

Soldier stared laughing as well.

From the other end of the table, Medic frowned at the two. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

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**S** is for _slick_.

"Ohmygodohmygod_ohmygod_!" Scout was shrieking as he ran down the hallway. What was he running from?

Soldier, of course. "Get back here, you little maggot!"

"Screw you!" Scout yelled back at him, sock-clad feet pounding against the floor. He headed for the kitchen. As he ran into the kitchen, he screeched to whoever was in there, "Solly's gonna eat me, Solly's gonna eat me, Solly's gonna-"

"Scout, no! Zhe floor is still-"

Medic's warning came too late. "Ahh!" Scout yelped as his socks slipped on the damp floor. He fell backwards and onto his back. After hitting the floor, he groaned, curling into a little ball.

"…slick," Medic finished, looking down at Scout.

"Owww," Scout whined.

"Vell vhat do you expect? You come running in here in your socks right after I mopped," Medic held up his mop for emphasis. "Now, you said you something about Sol-"

"Maggoaaahhh!" Soldier's screech turned into a scream of surprise as he ran into the kitchen, began to slip on the damp floor, and promptly fall backwards onto said floor.

Medic sighed, now looking down at Soldier. He suddenly grinned. "Careful," he said sweetly and slightly sarcastically. "Zhe floor is slick."

Soldier and Scout just groaned.

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**S** is for _Spy_

It was well known that Spy and Sniper didn't get along. They were on opposite ends of the social scale. Spy considered himself much classier than Sniper. And by all accounts, he was. He had always been well off, much more so than Sniper. He dressed nicer and could be a true gentleman when he wanted to. He tended to prefer the finer things in life. Spy also disliked many things Sniper liked. The out-of-doors didn't have a lot of appeal to him. He only liked a select few animals. He was a city person and a cat person. While Sniper would usually rather be by himself, Spy enjoyed socializing. It just couldn't be helped. They were opposites. And Spy and Sniper fought all the time because of it.

"Of course _you_ say zat, bushman. Eet fits your uncouth tastes so _well_."

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**S** is for _Sniper_.

It was well known that Sniper and Spy didn't get along. They were on opposite ends of the social scale. Sniper considered himself more easygoing than Spy. And by all accounts, he was. He had never been as well off as Spy, but as long as he had the necessities and was comfortable, he was alright. He dressed how he wanted and was a loner, choosing only to be a smidge friendly when it was absolutely necessary. He rolled his eyes at the finer things in life. Sniper disliked many things Spy liked. The out-of-doors held much appeal to him. As well as loving that, he also loved animals. He was a country person and a dog person. While Spy enjoyed socializing, Sniper would usually rather be by himself. It just couldn't be helped. They were opposites. And Sniper and Spy fought all the time because of it.

"_Wot _did you just say, spook? Say somethin' about my taste in clothes again, I bloody _dare_ ya."

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**S** is for _Scout_.

It was well known that Spy and Sniper didn't get along well. They were on opposite ends of the social scale. Scout, however, considered himself to be right in-between them. And by all accounts, he was. He wasn't well off like Spy, but he was comfortable with his life. He dressed in whatever he felt comfortable and was a (somewhat) likeable guy once you got to know him. The finer things in life interested him, but he would probably never be able to enjoy them. Scout disliked things Spy disliked and he also disliked things Sniper disliked. Scout did enjoy the out-of-doors. He liked animals, too. But he was a city boy and a cat person. And Scout, of course, liked to talk and socialize.

It couldn't be helped. Scout fell right in-between Spy and Sniper on the social scale. And when he got mixed into Spy and Sniper's fights, it was never a good thing, let alone helpful.

"Would yous two quit arguin'? It's startin' to bug me!"

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**S** is for _Soldier_.

It was well known that Sniper and Spy didn't get along well. They were on opposite ends of the social scale. But it was also well known that Soldier didn't give a damn about that. So when you added him into the mix of a fighting Spy and Sniper and an irritated Scout, it was going to be _awful_.

"Whoa, whoa, Solly! Put the Rocket Launcher down!"

"Watch it, watch it! You're gonna blow the entire bloody place up!"

"You imbecile! Don't fire zat inside zhe kitchen!"

"Would all you maggots shut up for once?!"

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**S** is for _SpyCrab_.

"Who am I fooling?" Scout muttered to himself. He was at Sawmill, in the BLU Intel Room. A Mini Sentry beeped nearby. Scout was _supposed_ to be in the RED Intel Room, you know, stealing the Intel. But with the RED Engineer building a sentry nest down there and with the RED Demoman and RED Heavy sticking close by, getting in wasn't exactly going to be easy. "It's gonna take a miracle to get me into the RED Intel Room."

"Did I 'ear someone ask for a miracle?!" A voice suddenly yelled as a shadow fell into the room. "Let me 'ear you say I!"

"Ahhh!" Scout yelped as he dove behind the Mini Sentry.

"Zat's close enough!" The voice said as the shadow moved about.

"A ghost," Scout decided as he watched the shadow. Its shape wasn't human, that was for sure.

"Get ready, Scout, your crustacean salvation is at 'and! For I 'ave been sent by your team to guide you through your capping. So 'eed my word, because if zhe REDs find you with their Intel, zhe penalty is death!" The voice said ominously.

"Who are you?" Scout asked, peaking from behind the sentry.

"Who am I? Who am I?" The shadow somehow managed to look indignant. "I am zhe guardian of cigarettes. I am zhe powerful, zhe pleasurable, zhe indestructible…" The large shadow got smaller and smaller as a small crab scuttled into the room. "SpyCrab!"

It… it certainly looked different from normal crabs. Almost like it was wearing a mask…

"I am pretty 'ot, _oui_?" The crab asked when Scout didn't say anything.

The Mini Sentry beeped at the suspicious crab.

"Ah!" The crab dove behind the wall again, but the sentry, upon realizing the crab was a shade of blue and not red, went back to scanning the room.

Scout frowned. He walked over and picked the crab up. "Uh, my team sent a little crab to help me?"

"'ey, SpyCrab, SpyCrab. Not _just_ crab," the SpyCrab jumped out of Scout's hands and onto a nearby cart. "I don't do zat pinching thing." He said that, yet snapped his claws a few times.

Scout stared. He couldn't believe this. "You're… um…" he tried to find the right words.

"Intimidating?" the SpyCrab guessed. "Awe-inspiring?"

"Tiny," Scout said, emphasizing it with his fingers.

"But of course," the SpyCrab nodded. "I'm travel sized for your convenience. If I were an actual Spy, your sentry 'ere would die of fright."

The sentry just beeped.

Scout frowned and raised an eyebrow.

"My abilities are beyond your Scout-y imagination. For instance," the SpyCrab leered at Scout. "My eyes can see _straight through_ your uniform."

Scout immediately scowled. He quickly and suddenly smacked the SpyCrab, indignant.

"Ow!" The SpyCrab yelled as he tumbled to the ground. He quickly got up, though. "Alright, zat's eet! Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole team! Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your sentry. Dis-"

"Stop!" Scout bent down to pick the SpyCrab up and set him back down on the cart again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm jus' nervous. I ain't never been able to get the Intel when it's been this heavily guarded before."

"Zen you're going to 'ave to trust me,' the SpyCrab said. "And don't slap me anymore, we clear on zat?"

Scout nodded.

"Alright," the SpyCrab smiled. "Zen let's get zis show on zhe road!"

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A/N: To me, there are two definitions of SpyCrab. You can SpyCrab (verb): as in being a Spy and walking around in the funny and derpy fashion. Or there are SpyCrabs (noun): small crabs that somewhat resemble a Spy. The one I wrote about (obviously) was the actual crab. And, no, it's not the same as Spy.

Okay. I think I'm done with the Disney references. So let's move on. Chapter T is next. And Chapter T is awesome. If only I could write faster…


	20. T is for team

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**T** is for _team_.

They weren't much of a team at first. Scout only focused on getting the Intel. Soldier just fought whoever he came across. Pyro didn't help guard Engineer's sentries or Spy Check as well as he should have. Demoman just blew up what he could. Heavy and Medic stuck together, quickly figuring out they made a nice pair. Medic didn't heal his other teammates as much as he should have. Engineer just maintained his sentries. Sniper sniped whoever he saw and interacted little with his teammates. Spy disappeared during much of the battle and killed who he wanted and when. They didn't work together. Their first few wins must have been luck. Now it was obvious the REDs had pulled it together faster and were winning more.

So Spy eventually figured something had to be done. Yes, Spy of all the mercenaries decided they would need to work together, at least somewhat, to snatch the RED Intel. He didn't like losing. So first thing first, he needed to find the one best suited for getting the Intel: Scout. Spy found the Bostonian in the RED sewers.

Scout was at some stairs, like he was about to enter the RED base, but at the moment that didn't seem like a plan he had in mind. He was leaning against a wall and staring at the ground.

Spy, cloaked, walked up to him. "Shouldn't you be getting zhe Intel?" he asked as he materialized into view.

Scout made an odd sound in the back of his throat and nearly dropped his gun. He straightened up to glare at Spy. "Do you hafta do that?" he spat. "You Spies are freakin' creepy."

Spy frowned. "Shouldn't you 'ave Spy Checked me by now?" he wondered.

"Spy Check y-?" Scout cut himself off as his eyes widened. He suddenly aimed a punch at Spy, but Spy, expecting this, simply and quickly dodged it. "You dodged it! That means you're a Spy!"

Spy sighed. "No, I just knew you would do zat," he explained.

"I still think I should get to punch you," Scout grinned. "Y'know, just to make sure."

Spy raised an eyebrow before he allowed a small grin to appear as well. "Not 'appening," he then said.

Scout frowned. "But how do I k-"

"Because zhe enemy Spy wouldn't be 'ere discussing a way to get zhe RED Intel with you, now would 'e?" Spy interrupted, knowing what Scout was going to ask.

"Get the Intel?"

"Yes," Spy rolled his eyes. "Getting zhe Intel. A big part of _your_ job, I might add. Why aren't you doing it, by zhe way?"

Scout looked away. "The RED Engineer has is sentry in, like, the perfect place, man! I can't get by it," he explained. "I can't get in through the courtyard or the battlements 'cause it's in such a nice place! It sucks." Scout crossed his arms and huffed.

Spy brought a hand to his chin, thinking. "So we need a way to get past eet…"

Scout perked up a bit and looked at Spy. "We?"

"Yes, _we_," Spy said. "I'm 'ere discussing eet with you, aren't I?"

Scout looked at his fellow BLU warily. "I dunno," he said. "I mean, aren't you Spies a sorta do-it-yourself class? You never seem to… do much other than disguise and stab guys in the back. Sure, killing the REDs is helpful 'n' all, but you aren't much of a… team player."

"None of us 'ave been team players," Spy snapped. "Which is why zhe REDs are doing such a fabulous job at beating us."

Scout looked down again, suddenly interested in his gun.

"I don't like losing," Spy continued. "So unless we get out act together, we're going to _keep_ losing."

"Well," Scout looked back up. "I don't like losin' either."

"Good, zen we 'ave something in common other than zhe color of our clothes and who we work for." Scout looked like was going to say something, but stopped when Spy said, "I 'ave a plan in mind."

"A plan?" Scout repeated. "What is it?"

"I will disguise as one of zhe REDs," Spy started to explain. "I'll pretend to chase you up into zhe RED base. We'll make a big show of eet, yes? Zhe REDs will take notice of eet immediately and come to get rid of you. But zey won't be able to catch you, let alone kill you, because you are quick. Distract zem. Jump around, curse at zem, anything, just stay alive so you can get past zem after I sap zhe sentry and take care of zhe RED Engineer. After zat, I'll be the one distracting zem while you get zhe Intel."

Scout frowned. "This sounds kinda…" he paused, looking for the right word. "Hard. Not that it's not a good plan or nothin'! I like it! But I just don't know if we'll be able to survive long enough. When the REDs come 'n' I have to distract them it won't be easy havin' three or four REDs chasin' me."

"So you don't want to go through with eet?"

"No, I do," Scout suddenly looked determined. "We just need more than two people. We need some help. Hold up." Scout flicked his microphone down, turning his radio communication on. "Soldier, it's Scout," Scout said into his headphones. "Can ya hear me?"

The BLUs hadn't used their radio system as much as they should have. Most of the time they would just hiss into the radio system about a RED Spy being in the base or something about one of the REDs heading for the Intel. So when Soldier heard Scout calling for him, he was a bit surprised. "What is it, Scout?" Soldier replied.

"Come to the RED base," Scout said into his headphones. "Spy 'n' me are gonna get the Intel."

"…What?"

"Just walk right in and attack some REDs!" Scout yelled. "I'll be distractin' them 'n' I need your help! I can only distract so many." He crossed his arms. "And bring Medic with ya! I'm bleedin' here."

Spy looked at Scout's arm as he said this, finally noticing some blood.

"But Medic's with Heavy-"

"I don't care! He needs to start healing the rest of the team 'n' not just Heavy!"

"Scout," Medic's voice suddenly interrupted the conversation. "You know zhe whole team can hear you over our radio system, correct? Zat includes me."

"Good," Scout snapped. "Then stop over-healin' Heavy 'n' get your lazy ass over here! Be a team player for once! Both of you!" He flicked his microphone back up, cutting off his radio system. He crossed his arms and glared at nothing.

Spy raised an eyebrow at Scout, a bit surprised at his little rant.

Scout's glare and face stared to fall. "Yeah, they're both gonna kill me," he decided after a moment. Yelling at those two hadn't been a bright move…

Spy outright laughed. "Only if we lose, _lapin_," he grinned. "Only if we lose."

Scout nervously grinned back and shrugged. "Uh, we're not gonna lose, though. Right?"

"Right," Spy nodded. "You know what to do, zen? Distract zem as best you can. 'opefully, Soldier and Medic are on their way and they can 'elp. And when I contact you through zhe radio system, 'ead for zhe Intel, _d'accord_?"

Without realizing it, Scout said, "_D_'_accord_."

Spy looked sharply at Scout after his reply, raising an eyebrow. "Are you mocking me?"

Scout looked taken aback. "_Je parle Français_," he replied quickly and shrugged.

Spy's eyebrows rose even higher.

Scout looked away and started to bounce up and down. "Look, we gonna talk about languages now or get the Intel?" 

Spy just chuckled as pulled out his disguise kit. A second later and in a puff of smoke, he transformed into the RED Pyro. "Lnf guh," he said.

Scout shook his head, but took off at a run into the RED base.

Spy immediately followed.

As soon as Scout entered the RED base, he yelled, "Help! I'm dyin' here!" He turned around and shot at Spy, missing each shot by a mile.

"Helnph muh!" Spy yelled in a convincing Pyro voice.

They danced around each other right near the RED courtyard entrance. Scout used a ridiculous amount of bullets pretending to shoot at Spy, but it was worth it when the RED Demoman and RED Sniper came to investigate. "Pyro!" The RED Demoman grinned, noticing the cornered Scout. "You needed help finishin' one wee Scoot off?"

"Nuf!" the "RED Pyro" answered. "Myiemf jnsst onf oph ammunf!" He whined beneath his mask.

"Jus' use yer bloody shotgun!" The RED Sniper rolled his eyes.

"Bnph Myie wannph liph himf mph firph!"

"Go find that BLU Spy 'n' light _him_ on fire after ye get some ammo, then," the RED Demoman waved the "RED Pyro" away. "We'll finish the Scoot off."

"Finf," the "RED Pyro" huffed. He turned and walked into the courtyard.

Scout exhaled shakily as he watched Spy disappear up to the second floor of the RED base. Now comes the hard part: somehow evading death from these two REDs.

"'ey, do us a favor 'n' don't jump around," the RED Demoman said as he pulled out his Eyelander. "It'll be nice and quick if ye don't!"

"Uh, _no_," Scout sneered as he pulled out his Sandman. With a good swing, he hit the RED Sniper right on the head.

The RED Sniper teetered around uncertainly, surely seeing stars.

The RED Demoman lunged for Scout.

Scout jumped away, yelping. He fired a few shots at the RED, but he was too panicky and jumpy to actually hit the RED. What was he gonna do? The RED Sniper would recover any minute! And with all this restricted space the RED Demoman would eventually be able to get a hit-

"Charge!" Soldier suddenly appeared around a corner. He fired his Rocket Launcher without really aiming, but it was enough to kill the RED Demoman.

The blast also caused the RED Sniper to snap out of his stupefied state. Only now there were three BLUs and one of him. Before he even had any time to put his finger on a trigger or retreat, Scout took the RED Sniper out with two quick shots.

"_That's_ all you needed us for?" Soldier snorted as he reloaded his Rocket Launcher.

"Us?" Scout repeated.

Medic appeared from around the same corner as Soldier had. He walked up to Scout and pointed his Medi Gun at the Bostonian. "Yes, _us_."

Scout grinned. "Thanks, doc," he said as his wound healed.

As Medic finished healing Scout, Soldier asked, "What now?"

"Uh, we need-"

"Scout," Spy's voice suddenly came through the radio system. "Get zhe Intel now!"

Scout jumped. "Go help Spy!" he quickly said to Soldier and Medic. "He's up there distractin' the REDs! I gotta go get the Intel!" Before they could reply, Scout took off. The now sentry-less RED courtyard was much easier to get through and he was in the RED Intel room in no time. Luckily, no one was in there. He swiped the RED Intel and took off out the room once more. Scout reentered the RED courtyard once more, pausing.

There were some crazy fireworks going off all over the place. Soldier was firing rockets at both the RED Demoman and RED Soldier. Medic was healing Soldier as he tried to avoid shots. So Medic and Soldier were still holding off the REDs. Good. Scout couldn't see Spy. Not good, but unfortunately he didn't have a lot of time to worry about Spy. He had some Intel to deliver.

"Scout!" Medic called when he noticed Scout. "Don't take zhe battlements! Go back through zhe court-" Medic was cut off as more some more rockets and a few bombs exploded around him.

Some RED must be in the battlements, which must be why Medic told him to go through the courtyard. It would be tricky, but he could do it. Scout ran out of the RED courtyard, narrowly avoiding a plethora of rockets and bombs while being covered by Soldier and Medic. He almost made it out of the RED base, too. He ran into someone just near the entrance. Literally.

"Watch it, boyo!" Demoman stumbled back as Scout fell to the ground. "What's the rush?" His good eye suddenly caught sight of the Intel. "'Ey, ye actually got the RED Intel?" He offered a hand to Scout and hoisted the Bostonian up.

"_Yes_," Scout snorted. "Have you not been paying attention to our radio conversations?"

"Hey, I heard 'em, I jus' didn't know ye were actually able to get the Intel and get past the REDs," Demoman defended himself.

"REDs," Scout suddenly said, eyes widening. "Demo! Go and Soldier and Medic! They're holdin' off the REDs, but I don't think they'll last much longer! I gotta go deliver the Intel! Okay?"

"Okay?"

"Great, bye," Scout said quickly as he sped away, not sparring Demoman another glance. He finally made it out of the RED base and ran across the bridge. This was great. Demoman was going to help Medic and Soldier and when Scout would get into his own base, the BLUs would practically be home free. As Scout ran across the bridge, he didn't notice a small red dot flashing near him.

But another pair of eyes did.

Scout screeched to a stop when he heard a loud gunshot. He wasn't injured so he didn't just get shot… Scout whipped around just in time to see the RED Sniper's body fall out of the battlements and to the dirty ground below. Scout blinked and turned back around to look into the battlements of his base.

From the battlements above, Sniper looked down and simply tipped his hat at Scout.

Scout grinned. "Thanks, Snipes!" he yelled before running into the base. Now to head for the courtyard and-

"Ha!"

"Ahh!" Scout nearly fell over again as he tried to avoid running into yet another person.

"Scout?" Heavy lowered his purring gun a bit and frowned.

"No, I'mma Spy," Scout replied sarcastically as he straightened up. "What the hell are you doin'?"

"Helping defend," Heavy said as his gun fell silent. "What are you doing?"

"Delivering the Intel," Scout pointed the Intel, smirking.

"Intel is not delivered until downstairs in our own Intel room," Heavy pointed out, but grinned none the less. "Tiny Scout should get going so match can be over and we can win."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Scout rolled his eyes as he skirted around Heavy. "Catch ya later, big guy!" he said before running into their courtyard.

Pyro and Engineer were both there, leaning rather nonchalantly against a dispenser. Scout figured it had to do with the RED Spy's burning and very dead body laying a few feet away from them.

Scout made sure to whistle. "Nice, Pyro."

"Thankph ynf," Pyro gave Scout a thumbs up.

Grinning, Scout ran through their courtyard and finally down to their Intel room. When he placed the RED Intel on the desk, he laughed out loud when he heard: _"Victory!"_

So _that's _what it felt like to be a team.

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**T **is for _torture_.

Scout and Miss Pauling were both roughly pushed into a room and they both stumbled in. The door slammed shut behind them. They both straightened up and turned to look at the door, frowning.

"So," Scout then turned to Miss Pauling. "Got any weapons on ya?"

Miss Pauling glared at Scout.

"I'll take that as a no," Scout rolled his eyes. "How'd ya get caught?"

"Scout robots, ironically," Miss Pauling snorted. "They weren't as fast as _you_, but fast enough to catch me."

Scout grinned. "Glad to know I'm faster than 'em," he said. "Shame they caught ya, though. Here I was thinkin' ya'd be the one to come to our rescue."

"Oh, we're all getting rescued," Miss Pauling said determinedly.

"The Administrator sent reinforcements?" Scout asked hopefully.

"No," Miss Pauling admitted sheepishly. "We're busting out of here. Somehow." She glanced around the room she and Scout had been locked into. There was a table and a single chair in it. It was pure white. Eerie. There was some sort of window on one wall, but when Miss Pauling walked over to it she found she couldn't see through it. She frowned. "What's been going on here, Scout?"

"Oh, y'know, the normal kinda torture stuff."

"Details, Scout."

Scout frowned and looked away. "We've been kept in different rooms," he started. "Haven't seen any-a the guys since I've been here. When they wanna talk to ya, they take ya to different room than your cell. Then they, uh, "interview" ya. Haven't gave anything away, don't worry. Anyways, when they're done "interviewing" you, they just take ya back to your cell. I assume they're cycling through us all. I dunno, though."

"Have you respawned yet?"

"Oh, yeah," Scout gave a crude grin. "Sucks that they hacked into the respawn system. They redirected it to a different room other than the cells. Have you respawned?"

"Not yet," Miss Pauling sighed. "But I assume that's what will happen in here."

"It's weird," Scout suddenly said, looking around the room. "This doesn't look like the integration room I was brought into before."

Miss Pauling turned to look at Scout. "It doesn't?"

"Nu-uh," Scout shook his head. "They always took me to the same one. The usual kind: dark, one light, they got ya seated at a table and smack ya around when ya don't answer right. Then ya respawn when it gets to be too much, y'know?"

"You haven't respawned recently, have you?" Miss Pauling looked at Scout. "You've got a bruise on your cheek and dried blood on both arms."

"Nah," Scout shook his head and crossed his arms. "I respawned earlier this morning. Some-a Gray's goons, not robots, took me to a room and roughed me up a bit a little before you came along. It was weird, though. They usually wail on me for longer than they did. It was like they cut it short or somethin'. Not that I'm compalin', though!"

Miss Pauling narrowed her eyes. "Wait, did you say _before_ I came along?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"And then they cut it short? What happened? What happened after that?"

"Well, after they did that, they took me back to my cell 'n' not five minutes later, take me back out again. We go through some halls and then I'm shoved in here with you."

Miss Pauling's gears were turning. "This integration room doesn't look like the others," she said, mostly to herself. She turned to look back at the window.

Blinking, Scout said nothing.

"We're going to get integrated in here," Miss Pauling said simply. "Probably beaten, maybe killed and sent through respawn if we're lucky."

Scout frowned and took a step towards Miss Pauling. He looked determined. "Look, Miss Pauling, I'll make sure they won't lay a finger on ya-"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Scout," Miss Pauling walked over to the window once more. "Besides, it's not you or I that I'm really worried about. It's the rest of the team."

"What?" Scout looked confused.

"Look at this window, Scout."

Scout walked over to stand next to Miss Pauling. He looked through the window, but couldn't see anything. The window prevented it. "I can't see through it. Is it like one-a those detective windows? Like were the cops can see through the window, but the perp can't?"

"Exactly like that," Miss Pauling nodded. "We can't see through it, but whoever is on the other side can. And guess who's on the other side."

It took a few seconds, but Scout's eyes eventually widened in realization. "The rest-a the team," he gasped.

"The rest of the team," Miss Pauling repeated as she placed a hand on the window. "I bet they're on the other side of this window. Gray placed them there. To watch. He'll send someone in to integrate us. Someone in to beat us. He won't be looking for answers from _us_, though. He'll be looking for answers from the rest of the team."

"They won't give anything away," Scout defended his fellow BLUs.

"He's playing on their instincts, Scout."

"What?"

"You won't like what I'm about to say-"

"I've liked what you've been talking about?"

"Scout," Miss Pauling said, getting the Bostonian's attention again. She removed her hand from the window and turned to face Scout. "Men have two very primitive instincts: protect the women and protect the children."

Scout narrowed his eyes, understanding what Miss Pauling was getting at. "I am not a child," was what he said in return.

Miss Pauling almost laughed out loud, despite their situation. "No, but you are the youngest on the team."

"That doesn't mean any-"

"Focus, Scout," Miss Pauling interrupted. "They're playing on the team's primitive instincts and they're using me and you to do it."

Scout nodded, but still scowled. "They're basically gonna torture _us_ in hopes that seein' our pain will get the rest-a 'em to squeal."

"Yes," Miss Pauling said, still looking through the window. "I bet Gray even has some sort of sound system so the rest of the team can hear our screams."

"_Great_," Scout said sarcastically. "Spy was right I am danger-prone… And this Gray guy's a real dick!"

"I have to agree," Miss Pauling sighed. "He's certainly playing his cards right. Someone's going to squeal. Who do we have to worry about the most?"

"Hey!" Scout glared at Miss Pauling. "None of the guys're gonna squeal, Miss Pauling! It's against our contracts! I wouldn't still be gettin' beaten on if they had! And they're not gonna start squealin' now. We're strong."

Miss Pauling looked at Scout sadly. "I know you are and I'm sorry, Scout," she shook her head. "But who do we have to worry about the most?"

Scout's face fell. He hesitated, but eventually said, "Solly's in the clear. He wouldn't utter a word if he knew it goes against the rules. Hell, he'll prolly scream 'n' shout more than us, but he won't give nothin' away. He'll jus' be mad that he can't help us."

"That sounds like Soldier."

"Yeah," Scout nodded, staring the floor. "Pyro... He's cool 'n' an awesome teammate. I like him. He prolly won't like seein' us in pain. He cares for the whole team, y'know?" He leaned against the wall.

Miss Pauling nodded.

"Heavy should be fine," Scout went on. "I'm pretty sure he's already seen his own family being beaten, so we won't make much of a difference." He sighed, pausing for a moment. "I'm unsure about Demo, but I can't see him squealin'. Hopefully he still has some alcohol in his system and'll be too drunk to remember this."

When Scout hesitated once more, Miss Pauling prompted, "Engineer?"

Scout almost cringed. "He won't like it one bit. Not at all. He's a real tough guy, trust me, but y'know how you said all that stuff about primitive instincts? Yeah, he's certainly got 'em. He cares for the team jus' like Pyro. I'd be… be worried about him the most."

"Understood."

"Medic should be good, though," Scout went on glumly. "We'll prolly be bleedin' 'n' shit. He sees that all the time. S'difficult to say about Sniper. He acts like he doesn't care, but he does. He's pretty cool, too." He paused for a long moment. Scout looked at the window, face crestfallen. "Spy… should be trained for this kinda thing. When he's told not to say something, he won't tell no matter what. He shouldn't be too bothered by us gettin' beat on, he should be good…" he trailed off and moved his gaze to the ground.

Miss Pauling sighed, frowning. "So we have to worry about Engineer and Pyro the most, and possibly Sniper?" She brought a hand to her hair and ran it through it.

"They won't squeal," Scout looked back up at Miss Pauling, eyes blazing.

"Maybe," Miss Pauling said. "But I'd still feel better if went with Plan B, just in case."

Scout did a double take. "Huh?"

"You know, Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

Miss Pauling grinned. "The part where we bust out of here and save their asses."

Scout straightened up, lips twitching upwards as well. "I'm likin' the sound-a Plan B. Tell me more."

"I'm working on it," Miss Pauling finally stepped away from the window. She walked around the white room. She looked at everything as she walked the perimeter of it. She looked under and all around both the chair and table. She looked at the door, which was still faithfully locked. She walked back to the window and next to Scout. "Okay, both of us have no weapons or anything on us that could be potentially made into weapons."

"Yeah."

"We're both pretty exhausted, especially with one of us having been tortured and all."

"Definitely."

"We're at a huge disadvantage because us and the rest of the BLUs got caught and Gray has quite a few robots at his disposal."

"Are you goin' somewhere with this? 'Cause it is makin' me even more depressed 'n' shit."

Miss Pauling brought a hand to her chin, still thinking. She glanced at the locked door once more. "Scout," she said slowly and began to grin. "How good are you at acting?"

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**T** is for _Tentaspy_.

Demoman held his sketchbook out. On the page he was currently showing to Scout and Spy was a picture. A picture that looked very much like Spy. Except… there were tentacles. The top half looked like a normal Spy (save for a color being present, the sketch was done in pencil), but the bottom half where legs _should_ have been had tentacles instead. No legs, just tentacles. Twisting, curling tentacles that even had a bit of slime on them. The Spy in the picture was grinning wickedly and, upon closer inspection, had rows of sharp, pointy teeth. The Spy in the picture also had a bloody and slightly torn suit and a bloody knife to accompany that.

Both Scout and Spy just blinked.

"I call 'im," Demoman said proudly. "Tentaspy."

"'ow disturbing," Spy frowned.

"How _sweet_," Scout grinned. "Don't listen to him, Demo. Spy here just doesn't know _true_ art when he sees it."

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A/N: Oh, I had _way_ too much fun with this chapter. It was actually supposed to be longer. _A lot_ longer. I had _plans_ for this chapter, peoples. "Torture" and "Tentaspy" were cut much shorter than I originally planned them to be. "Torture" was actually so fun to write, I might actually have to finish it up in a oneshot. A different (than the original planned version) of "Tentaspy" might be uploaded as well.


	21. U is for unicorn

Pit-Trap: I don't own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**U** is for _unicorn_.

Both Scout and Pyro stared at the Ballonicorn.

"It's a unicorn," Scout said bluntly.

"Infs perfnnft," Pyro sighed dreamily.

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**U** is for _United States._

"Gaaa-" The RED Medic's scream was cut off as Soldier's shovel connected with his jaw. The swing killed him and caused him to be flung to the ground, body now waiting for respawn.

"Ha!" Soldier taunted. "Welcome to the United States of YOU JUST GOT DOMINATED!"

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**U** is for _underweight_.

Medic had a habit. Not particularly a bad habit, but certainly a habit. He tended to watch his teammates. He already technically had to watch out for all of them on the battlefield. He had to keep check of who was hurt and who needed to be healed. But Medic scrutinized his teammates off the battlefield as well. Medic watched mostly to pick up if anything was wrong with his teammates like the doctor he was. He was almost as good as Spy when it came to observing people now, especially his teammates.

But when one scrutinizes others, they tend to notice things about the others they never noticed before. Medic noticed little things about all his teammates. Pyro had a strange thing for guacamole. Demoman always tapped one foot when he sketched. Spy didn't smoke as much as his teammates claimed he did; maybe one or two cigarettes a day (counted outside of battle, of course). Heavy read a lot of mystery books. Engineer hummed when he was busy with something. Sniper didn't like swimming. Soldier was actually pretty good at making people laugh. They were interesting little quirks, but not the ones Medic paid the most attention to.

Scout had a little something, a little quirk, Medic noticed almost everyday. And it wasn't a good something. Medic noticed how little Scout ate and how underweight Scout was because of that. The Bostonian usually ate only two meals a day and maybe a snack. He would have pancakes for breakfast, maybe swipe half a sandwich for lunch, and halfheartedly eat half his dinner and then push his corn around with his fork during the rest of the meal. Being a doctor, this bothered Medic. He had only confronted Scout about this recently (two weeks ago), but the runner had, of course, denied not getting enough to eat and being perfectly healthy. Scout had even let Medic do a checkup on him after that confrontation. Medic found Scout to be underweight and advised Scout to eat more accordingly for his health. Scout had said he would try.

But as Medic currently watched Scout at the table, picking at a bread roll with disinterest, it was clear that Scout had forgotten what he said to Medic at that last checkup. Medic needed to confront Scout again. So after the meal, Medic caught up with Scout. "Scout," he said as he walked up to the runner.

"What's up?" Scout turned around to face Medic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Shoot."

"In private," Medic gestured to the nearby infirmary.

Scout raised an eyebrow. "Okay," he said slowly and a little unsurely, but walked into the infirmary anyways.

Medic followed, making sure to close the door once he walked in.

"Alright," Scout faced Medic once more. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

Medic sighed. "Scout," he said, looking at the other BLU. "Step on zhe scale." He pointed to a nearby scale in the corner of the infirmary.

Scout's eyes widened. "Aw, not this again, Medic!"

"Scout," Medic repeated. "_Please_ step on zhe scale." He crossed his arms and stared the other down.

Scout bit his lip and glanced between Medic and the scale. Medic was still blocking the doorway, so making a break for it probably wouldn't work. Or really be worth it. Scout glared and huffed, but eventually slunk over to the scale. Glowering at the device, Scout stepped on it.

Medic briskly walked over to look down at the scale. "Congratulations," he said sarcastically to Scout when he saw the numbers. "You haf gained vone pound since I last saw you two veeks ago. You now weigh vone-hundred-and-fourty-vone pounds."

Scout bit his lip once more. "That's still bad?" he asked slowly after a moment.

"Scout!" Medic all but shouted. "Zat's very bad! Do you not realize how underveight you are? You are skin and bones!"

Scout didn't flinch. "I'ma Scout!" he shouted back. "I'm _supposed_ to be skinny!"

"Not zis skinny," Medic placed a hand on Scout's shoulder. "Not only vone-hundred-and-fourty-vone pounds."

Scout violently shrugged Medic's hand off. "I don't care! I'm _fine_," he said, scowling.

Medic let out a heavy sigh. He walked over to one of the infirmary's beds and sat down on it.

Scout stepped off the scale and stood there awkwardly for a few tense seconds.

He was about to storm out of the infirmary, but stopped when he heard Medic say, "I care."

"What?"

"I said I care," Medic repeated. "I care about how much you veigh. I care about you being underveight."

Scout's scowl fell and a slightly confused face too it's place.

"It is my job," Medic started to explain, still looking at Scout. "To keep track of my team's health during battle. To know how healthy and fit zey are and how healthy and fit zey need to be to be able to function on zhe battlefield correctly and efficiently. It is my job to make zhem healthy and fit if zey are not. I think I am doing a fair job of it and-"

"Good for you," Scout snapped, interrupting. "Would ya like a Medic of the Year Award for your good job?"

"Scout, you didn't let me finish," Medic sighed, making sure not to snap back. When Scout said nothing, he went on. "Anyvays, zat is my job. To keep zhe team healthy and fit during battle. I do not haf to _care_ for my job. Technically, I do not haf to care about your overall health, just make sure you are able to battle. I just haf to heal you if you are injured. You are fit, uninjured. You are not necessarily healthy, though. Am still I doing my job correctly?" Medic didn't wait for a reply. "Yes, I am. But I am doing more zan just my job. I am caring. I am caring about your health, your veight. I do more zan my contract says, more zan my job requires. I am caring about you _and_ zhe rest of zhe team. And for your benefit _and_ zhe entire team's benefit, I need you to be healthy, Scout. Not underveight."

Scout's face fell as Medic went on. He looked down at the ground. After a long hesitation, he said, "I guess the rumors are true, then? Ya actually have a heart?"

Medic snorted. "I just vould prefer not to haf you fainting vhile ve're fighting at Lakeside. It vorries me."

"Hey, I didn't faint!" Scout insisted. "I passed out in a manly fashion! It was really hot that day 'n' I ran outta water!"

Medic said nothing and stared at Scout pointedly.

Scout bit his lip. "Look, doc, you got it wrong," he started to explain. "I do care about how much I weigh. Contrary to popular belief, I _did_ read my contract. I know our contracts looked pretty similar 'cause we're all BLUs, but they prolly differed between classes, yeah? I dunno if ya know, but in Scout contracts there was a little clause that said somethin' about our weight. If we Scouts get too heavy, if we way too much, we get fired, no questions asked!"

"Scout," was all Medic said before bursting out laughing.

"S'not funny!"

"I know, I know," Medic shook his head, still grinning. "But I already knew zat."

"What?"

"I haf known zat Scouts get fired if zey veigh too much," Medic said.

"Well then ya know that's why I gotta keep my weight down!" Scout crossed his arms, staring at his fellow BLU. "That's why I weigh what I weigh."

"But, Scout, you simply veigh too little. You are nearly fifty pounds avay from zhe veight of vhich zey vould fire you at," Medic frowned.

"So I got no fear-a bein' fired," Scout nodded.

"Yes, but your current veight is not exactly healthy for you either, especially at your age," Medic explained.

"But… I don't wanna get fired…"

"And you von't," Medic's face set. "Not vith my help. I can help you vith a diet, _ja_? Help you know vhat to eat and vhen. So you can gain a few pounds and be healthy. About ten pounds vould do nicely. And gaining ten pounds vould still be vell avay from zhe veight limit Scouts are set at."

Scout still looked uncertain. "I dunno…"

"Scout," Medic sighed wearily, but smiled. "At least give it a try. To ease an old man's vorries."

Scout blinked. After a moment, he smiled back. "Only as long as your diet doesn't include Demo's haggis."

Medic laughed out loud once again. "Deal."

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**U** is for _ugly_.

"Ugh," Scout groaned as he put his gun in his locker. He walked over to a bench and sat down. He was in the resupply room after a battle had just ended for the day. And Scout was not too happy. "Well this has been a fun day, huh?. Gettin' Dominated by the RED Heavy. Twice."

Someone snorted next to him. Scout turned just in time to see Spy disguise as someone. Specifically, the RED Heavy. "Oh, it was too easy, leetle Scout!" Spy said, perfectly imitating the RED Heavy's voice.

"Hey, fuck you," Scout spat, glaring first at Spy and then the wall. A moment later, he looked back over to the disguised Spy once more. "'sides, he's a little uglier."

The "RED Heavy" frowned. He then turned around, but not a second later, turned back around to face Scout. The "RED Heavy's" expression was by far the stupidest expression Scout had ever seen. Scout nearly laughed out loud at the face. He actually did laugh out loud when Spy let out the dorkiest sounding laugh, still impersonating the RED Heavy.

"Pretty close," Scout grinned.

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A/N: Scout-Medic feels. _Poorly attempted_ Scout-Medic feels. CAN YOU HANDLE THEM. And I lied. I had one more Disney reference… How did that Guest know. Kudos to anyone who actually recognizes it.

I actually need to explain "underweight". Firstly, I know nothing about the correct and healthy weight of young males. I literally Googled a weight chart for men and picked a random height for Scoot and looked at the healthy and not healthy target weights. Sorry, but I ain't majorin' in health here! Secondly, I've seen a few stories where people interpret Scout as wanting to be bigger than he currently is. Y'know, stronger and meatier like the rest of the mercs. It's a nice concept. I reversed it a bit, though. I could totally see Scoot fretting about his weight, but this time about it being too much. The heavier you are the slower you run, right? Scoot needs to be fast (and thus skinny) to do what he does. S'kinda like modeling if you think about it. If you're too fat or weigh too much then you're booted.


	22. V is for vacancy

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**V** is for _Vaccinator_.

Medic stared at the new weapon in his hands. "Uh," he turned the Vaccinator around in his hands, still searching. "How zhe hell do I use zis thing?!"

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**V** is for _voice_.

"Ah."

"Again, please."

"Ah."

"Say it slower and hold it if you can."

"Ah-h-h-h-h-"

"Good," Medic interrupted with a nod. He flicked the flashlight off and took a step away from Scout, who was sitting on one of the infirmary's beds.

Scout closed his mouth, which was what Medic had been looking at a second ago. "Wh-what's wron-" he cut himself off with a quick cough. "With me?" His voice was a scratchy whisper and it was hard for him to talk.

Medic immediately said, "You haf laryngitis."

"Larry-what?" Scout managed to ask hoarsely.

"Laryngitis," Medic repeated. "It's an inflammation of zhe larynx." He tapped his throat for emphasis. "It's zhe reason you lost your voice. It's usually caused by allergies, excessive coughing or smoking, overuse of zhe vocal cords, and other things. But I haf a feeling _you_ got it from zhe overuse of vocal cords."

Scout looked sheepish.

"Perhaps it had something to do vith zat swearing match vith zhe RED Scout zhe other day?" Medic pressed.

"H-he asked for it-" Scout coughed again, cutting himself off. He didn't finish his sentence and rubbed his throat. It really hurt his throat to talk.

"Vell you haf it now, so it doesn't really matter," Medic shook his head. "Luckily, it's not too serious. You should still be fine to fight."

Scout perked up at that.

"But take it easy after battles," Medic warned. "Drink lots of fluids and go to bed early. Take lots of breaks during zhe battle, too."

"Gotcha," Scout said in a scratchy voice. He stood up from the bed.

"Vone more thing," Medic said before Scout started leaving. "Try not to talk for a vhile."

"Huh?"

"Vell your voice vill be like zis for a few days, at least. Try not-"

"_What_?!" Scout shrieked (sort of, it sounded very small and scratchy) before having a small coughing fit.

"Don't scream like zat either!" Medic chastised. "It von't be easy for your voice to come back if you scream. Talk as little as possible, if at all. No screaming during battles or at zhe RED Scout. Zhe less you talk zhe faster your voice comes back."

"B-but," Scout stuttered in a small voice. "How am I supposed to yell for help?" he squeaked. "Warn for Spies? Talk to t-the team?"

Medic frowned, pausing. He suddenly walked over to his desk and grabbed two things: a pen and a notebook. "Here," he said, handing them to Scout. "Use zhese to communicate. Vrite down vhat you need to say on zhe notebook."

Scout took the two objects and started at them. Then he looked back up at Medic, glaring.

"Don't give me zat look," Medic sighed. "It's for zhe best."

"Whateve-"

"Ah-ah!" Medic snapped. "No talking! Use zis," he tapped the notebook. "And only call for me if you really need me, understand? If I do hear you talk during battle – call for vone dispenser or vone teleporter – I'll find you and confine you to zhe infirmary until you are better. Got zat?"

Scout scowled, but nodded anyways. He walked out of the infirmary, slamming the door the tiniest bit. He paused in front of it to stare back down at the notebook and pen.

"So what's zhe diagnosis?" Spy materialized next to Scout.

Scout couldn't even manage a yelp. He just jumped. Transferring the scowl to Spy instead, he huffed, "I-" and cut himself off. He glanced behind himself and at the infirmary door. Rolling his eyes, he quickly started scribbling something down on the notebook. When he was done, Scout shoved the notebook into Spy's chest.

Spy lifted it up to read it. It took him a few moments to decipher the chicken scratch. "Oh, laryngitis," he nodded as he read. When he finished what Scout had put down, he smirked. "Oh, so you can't talk, _oui_? Doctor's orders?"

Scout nodded as he took the notebook back.

"For zhe next few days?"

Frowning, Scout nodded again.

"Oh," Spy practically sang. "Zhe rest of zhe team's going to love zis." Before Scout could stop him, Spy cloaked.

Scout stood just there for a few moments, stunned. That jackass. Scout knew exactly where he was going, too. "Bastard!" Scout hoarsely (kind of) yelled after him.

"Scout!" Medic's voice came from the other side of the infirmary door and did not sound happy.

Scout took off before Medic could say anything else or come out of the infirmary. He headed straight for the kitchen. Most everyone was in there, eating breakfast before the fight today. They all paused when Scout entered the kitchen, however. Scout stopped, scanning the room.

"Why good mornin', Scoot," Demoman said a little too merrily. He was at the table, where he had previously been munching on some toast. "How're ya this fine day?"

Scout whipped his head around to glare at the Scot. Scout _knew_ Spy had been in here and told the rest of the team already. He _knew_. He just didn't know where Spy had gone. He was probably still cloaked, sneaking around the kitchen… Oh, Scout was going to give it to him when he reappeared.

"'ey, wot's the matter, Poppy?" Sniper asked when Scout didn't reply. "Cat got your tongue?" His grin was wide.

A few snickers went around the room.

"Fuck all-a ya," Scout managed to choke out.

"Son, your voice sounds _terrible_," Engineer chuckled. "What's wrong with ya?"

Seething, Scout stalked over to the table. He quickly added something to what he had written before, and slammed it down on the table between Engineer and Soldier.

Engineer and Soldier both leaned over to read it. "Oh, he's got laryngitis, fellas," Engineer said, then looked at Scout. "Spy just said ya lost your voice."

"Where the fuc-" Scout interrupted himself with a cough. "Is he?"

"It says here you're not supposed to talk," Soldier pointed to the notebook. "You're supposes to-"

Spy suddenly materialized next to the fridge. "Ah, stupid watch," he cursed at his Invis Watch, which had run out of juice.

Scout, somehow remembering not to talk, snatched the notebook back and promptly launched it at Spy. That would get the point across.

It hit the man square in the face. "Ow." It fell off his face and he caught it. Spy turned to frown at Scout. He managed to dodge the pen that came flying at him next. "What was zat for? Zey would 'ave found out sooner or later."

Scout presented his middle finger to Spy.

"Spy has a point, Scout," Engineer pointed out. "And should you really be usin' that notebook to throw at Spy? Aint' it for talkin'?"

Scout stomped over to Spy, ripped the notebook away, and picked the pen back up. He scribbled something on a page and held it out: _Yeah_.

"Good."

Scout suddenly whacked Spy in the arm with the notebook. He quickly scribbled something down on the notebook again and presented it to Engineer: _Starting now_. He grinned cheekily.

Engineer just sighed and shook his head.

Pyro suddenly came over and threw his arm around Scout's shoulder. "Myie knuf hph ynf fphf, Scnph," he said. "Mmphrf hph nuphbffi cnlph undrphnf mff whnf wnf wnf mnph?"

Scout nodded.

"Ni'phl pnph wiph tnph, lckk mph dnf mph mye," Pyro said. "Yun'ph bf tlnkin agnff nn nnf tph. Ni'phl bf fnph."

Scout decided later, as they were fighting with the REDs, it was not going to get better like Pyro had said. It was hard not to scream when rockets were flying towards you. It was really hard not to scream when a fully charged Heavy-Medic duo was headed your way. It was beyond hard not to scream when you were on fire. Barely half the day had gone by and Scout was already tired. His throat ached and talking had suddenly become annoying and even harder to do. Scout had to take a break. Sitting next to Engineer's dispenser for half-an-hour might have overdone it, though.

"Son," Engineer said as he finished building up his sentry. "Are you just gonna sit there all day? Ya been here for nearly an hour now!"

Still slumped against the machine, Scout made no reply.

"Have ya done anything productive today at all?"

Scout glared.

"Look, I know you're sick and all, but don't ya think you should at least _try_ to kill a few REDs or something? Maybe not go after their Intel, but at least try to kill a few of 'em?"

Scout managed to groan and stand up. He pulled his notebook and pen from his satchel and scribbled something on it.

When Scout showed it to him, Engineer leaned forward to read it. "It's not that I don't like your company, Scout," he sighed.

Scout wrote another thing down and showed it to the Texan.

"No," Engineer said when he finished reading it. "It's not that either."

Another thing was scribbled down and shown.

"Not exactly."

More scribbling and showing.

"…" Engineer stared at what Scout had written. "Boy, what is the matter with you?"

Scout grinned and shrugged. He quickly wrote something else down.

"There ya go!" Engineer grinned when he read it, glad the subject had changed. "That's bein' productive! Go Spy Check around for me. Then come back 'n' rest when you're done."

Scout nodded. He tucked the notebook under his arm and jogged out of the courtyard. He would start in the sewers and then work his way back up through the entire base. As Scout made his way down the stairs that led into the sewers, he noticed something at the bottom of the stairs. Something small, red, and explosive. Then he noticed several other small, red, explosive somethings. Scout lastly noticed the RED Demoman standing a few feet away.

Quite pleased someone had finally fallen into his sticky bomb trap, the RED Demoman smirked. "Any last words, boyo?" he taunted.

Scout opened his mouth and then shut it, somehow remembering not to scream.

"Nothin'?" the RED Demoman jeered. "Oh, and you Scoots are usually so talkative."

Scout opened his mouth again, but once again decided to say nothing. Just as the RED Demoman was about to set the trap off, he suddenly held up a finger, a sigh asking for just a moment.

Confused, the RED Demoman stopped and raised an eyebrow.

Scout pulled his notebook and pen out, flipped to a page, and wrote something down. He held it out to the RED.

Intrigued, the RED Demoman creeped forward to read it. "Ha!" he laughed. "Ye can't talk?"

Scout wrote something else down.

"That makes sense."

Scout nodded as he wrote another thing down.

The RED Demoman nodded in return as he read what Scout had just put down. "Sure, sure, go right ahead, boyo," the RED said as he stepped away.

Scout waved to the RED Demoman in thanks before scribbling something else down. He then held the notebook in front of himself. The page in the notebook read: _Ahhh. Fuck you. _

As the sticky bomb trap went off, Scout wished he had his voice back. Screaming at the REDs (and his teammates) would be a hell of a lot easier.

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**V** is for _venomous_.

"Venomous?!" Medic shrieked.

"Err, yeah," Engineer took his hat off and scratched his head. "I ain't no snake expert, but based on the way Sol's actin'…"

Soldier lay on an infirmary bed a few feet away, groaning. The right sleeve of his shirt had been rolled up slightly. Two puncture wounds were on his wrist, inflamed and smeared with dry blood.

"Of course it vas venomous!" Medic resisted the urge to smack Engineer. "Look at zhe wound! Look at zhe vay he is acting! Soldier vas clearly bitten by a venomous snake. Vhich vone is vhat I vant to know, though!"

"Well, like I said, I ain't no expert," Engineer sighed. "I didn't even get a good look at it. I just heard Soldier yell in surprise when the snake bit 'im. Disappeared by the time I got over there. Sol said he was fine afterwards, but not five minutes later he could barely stand!"

Medic huffed and walked over to cabinet. He opened it up and began looking through the many glasses and bottles in it.

"Are you gonna give Sol an antivenom?" Engineer asked.

"I vould if I had any!" Medic said as he went to look in another cabinet, then in a drawer. "Zhe Administrator's never provided me vith any!"

"What about your Medi Gun?"

"It only heals flesh vounds, broken bones, zat sort of thing! It can't neutralize zhe venom it Soldier's body!"

There came a grunt from Soldier, causing both Engineer and Medic to pause. "S'fine," Soldier slurred, just barely loud enough for them both to hear. "I'll jus'… respawn."

"That's not fine, Soldier," Engineer snapped. "You'll be in pain for too long."

"Yes," Medic agreed. "It vill take vay too long for zhe venom alone to kill you."

Soldier didn't reply.

"Ugh," Medic tapped his hand against a nearby counter, scowling. "I vish I had some antivenom. It's really zhe only vay to help Soldier."

"There's nothin' else?"

"His body might be able to fight it off, but he'll be in pain for much longer zan necessary. I need to do somet-"

Medic was interrupted by a cough. Engineer and Medic turned around to see Sniper standing in the doorway. "I heard Solly got bit by a snake," he said.

"Yes," Medic snapped. "So if you vould leave so I can take c-"

"'ey, slow down there, mate," Sniper interrupted. He held up a worn bag. "I came to see if ya needed any help. I always have antivenom on me so I th-"

"You haf antivenom?!"

"Yeah."

"Vhy didn't you say so sooner?" Medic raced over and pulled Sniper further inside the infirmary. "I'm not supplied vith any!"

"You're not?" Sniper raised an eyebrow. "Bloody ridiculous. I mean, we're out in a desert. Y'know there's gonna be snakes around. Wot bit Solly, by the way?"

"Dunno," Engineer answered. "I didn't see it and Soldier didn't know what it was. He ain't in very good shape to try 'n' answer that anyway."

"Gotcha," Sniper nodded. He walked over to the infirmary bed Soldier was on and set his bag down. "I'll just have a little look at the battle wound." He brought Soldier's wrist up to inspect it. "Not too bad. Looks like a diamondback did it. Good thing for Solly that I purchased some diamondback antivenom right before I joined BLU." He released Soldier's wrist and opened his bag.

"What d'ya mean by that?" Engineer asked.

"You haf to get different antivenoms for different snake species," Medic explained. "But vhy vould you haf _diamondback_ antivenom, Sniper? Are zhere diamondbacks in Australia?"

Sniper laughed as he pulled a few vials out of his bag. As he read the labels he responded, "No, no diamondbacks in Australia. Plenty of other venomous things out there, though." He found the vial he was looking for. "There we are. Could ya get me some needles and an IV bag, doc? Gonna need to start intravenous therapy right away."

"_Ja_," Medic went over to a cabinet where he started riffling through it for supplies. He walked back over to Sniper with the needed supplies.

"Thanks," Sniper took them and got to work. Medic and Engineer just watched. In no time, Solider was hooked up to an IV that was pumping antivenom through his veins. The amazing part was that Medic hadn't helped at all. It was all Sniper's doing. "In a few hours," Sniper said. "Solly'll be much better. Any tissue damage will be taken care of by respawn after he gets killed in tomorrow's battle. He'll be right as rain afterwards." He zipped his bag full of antivenoms up, but left one vial out. "S'the diamondback antivenom," Sniper explained as he gave it to Medic. "You can keep it in here. Y'know to keep it cold, right?"

Medic nodded and went to put it in a small refrigerator he had reserved for medical purposes. "I'm surprised you vere able to do all that by yourself. Impressive."

"Eh," Sniper just shrugged. "I know a thing 'er two about snakes. 'Specially about the venomous ones. 'Specially how to treat venomous ones' bites. Being in the Outback _really_ teaches ya a few things."

"Is that why you had the antivenom with you?" Engineer asked.

"I knew there'd be snakes out here. So I bought some antivenom for all the local snakes before I came here to our Teufort base," Sniper grinned. "Professionals have standards, mates. Be polite, be efficient, 'n' have a plan to treat every snakebite you meet."

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**V** is for _violin_.

A sweet sound filled the infirmary. Medic's doves were all silent as they watched Medic play. A stand full of music sheets was in front of him. His eyes followed the notes upon the sheets as he played. He played for a minute or so and then stopped. He lifted one hand forward to turn one of the music sheets around. Suddenly, his doves all began to coo and a couple even fluttered away from their perches. Medic froze. Without thinking about it, he whipped around, swinging his instrument: a violin. His violin connected with the RED Spy's jaw and effectively knocked him out. Medic stared at the RED on the ground.

Medic let out a mournful sigh as he transferred his gaze to his violin. "Ack," he grumbled. "Zat put a dent in my violin."

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**V** is for _vacancy_.

"You know, Scout," Spy sidled up next to the Bostonian and put an arm around his shoulders. "If you were a hotel, I would _check in_."

Scout spit his Bonk! out, causing him to cough for a solid minute. "_What_," he managed to choke out afterwards.

"If I asked," Spy went on, smirking. "Would you show me some of your _suites_?"

"Da fuck is dat supposed to mean?" Scout narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, you know," Spy shrugged, still smirking suggestively. "Well 'ow about it, Scout?"

Scout stared at the other for a while. "Uh, sorry, _Spy_," he slipped out of Spy's grip. "But there ain't any vacancy."

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A/N: When the Vaccinator came out, I remember on every server I got on a Medic would be asking "How do I use this?". I kinda wish I had one. Is it really that difficult to use? I go Medic a lot, and have all his Medi Guns except the Vaccinator. I almost always use the default Medi Gun, though. His other ones aren't that great in my opinion.

Whew. "Venomous" was added in last second and required at little more research than I expected. I actually learned something because of it. I didn't know how one goes about treating venomous snakebites with intravenous therapy. I thought you just injected them with a syringe full of antivenom… But I guess not. "Violin" was added last second as well. Them ideas just kept a-comin'.

"Vacancy" is an inside joke. I had to put it in here. I had to.


	23. W is for wait

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**W** is for _watch_.

Sniper watched a lot of things. He had watched for REDs. He had watched out for his teammates. He had watched bullets fly, bombs explode, and flames spew. He had watched Engineer play his guitar many times. He had watched Scout as he played with Lyra. He had watched Spy as he smoked. He had watched Heavy and Demoman as the two had a drinking contest. He had watched Pyro trying to have a decent conversation with Soldier. He had watched Medic fret over his doves. Yes, Sniper watched many things. But his favorite thing to watch was the stars.

On clear, cloudless nights, Sniper would climb atop his camper van to watch the show. He would lie on the roof of his van, on his back with his hands behind his head. The stars never moved. They never shot bullets, smoked, or had drinking contests. No, they just hung in the sky, twinkling and trying to outshine one another. Sniper always knew, on those cloudless, clear nights full of stars and a slim crescent moon, that they were his favorite thing to watch.

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**W** is for _wait_.

Demoman and Pyro both stood in the courtyard. They just stood there, waiting. Then they heard something. Approaching footsteps. "Wait for it," Demoman suddenly said to Pyro. "Waaaaaiiiit for iiittt…"

Pyro nodded eagerly.

The RED Scout suddenly ran into the courtyard, but before he could get very far, something went off. Something small, blue, and very explosive. In a split second, the RED Scout exploded into pieces and was off to respawn all thanks to Demoman's sticky bomb trap.

Demoman and Pyro burst out laughing.

"Mph sf awnph!" Pyro's voice could barely be heard over his muffled laughing.

"Ohhh," Demoman roared in laughter as well and struggled to stay standing. "It gets better every time!"

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**W** is for _washing machine_.

The BLUs only had one washing machine. They had to make a schedule just so everyone could use it once a week. They each had a day of the week they were able to use it. Scout used it Mondays. Soldier got it Tuesdays. Pyro, strangely enough, didn't have much to wash so both he and Sniper shared Wednesdays. Demoman had Thursdays. Heavy had no qualms about sharing Fridays with Medic. Engineer cleaned pair after pair of overalls on Saturdays. And Spy spent half of his Sundays meticulously cleaning his suits. Despite is being small, old, and having so many mercs using it, that single washing machine usually worked well.

_Usually._

"_Mon dieu_! Engineer! Zhe washing machine broke _again_!"

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**W** is for _whoops_.

"Whoops."

Heavy frowned. That was definitely _not_ something he wanted to hear coming from Medic…

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**W** is for _Well_.

"Get him!"

"Hurry up, Demoman!"

Medic and Demoman were hot on the RED Spy's heels. The RED had unfortunately managed to nab the BLU's Intel. Medic and Demoman were currently the only ones chasing him down. Medic was firing large amounts of syringes at the RED Spy, while Demoman in turn lobbed bomb after bomb at him. The bombs were easier for the RED Spy to dodge, but a few needles had managed to lodge themselves in his legs. It didn't seem to slow the RED down any more, though.

"Don't let 'im pass the tracks!" Demoman called to Medic.

Ahead of Demoman, Medic shouted back, "I'm trying! Some help vould be nice, though!"

"What 'cha think I'm doin', ya quack?!"

"Running slower zan a Heavy vith a Brass- Ahh!" Medic cut himself off with a surprised scream and screeched to a stop. One of his hands flew to his shoulder. The RED Spy had whipped around to shoot at the two BLUs and had managed to hit Medic in the shoulder.

Smirking, the RED Spy turned back around and continued running towards his base. As soon as he would pass the railroad tracks, he would be in his own territory and practically home free.

Demoman stopped next to Medic. "Shit. Doc, ye alright?"

"Don't vorry about me!" Medic waved Demoman away with his hand before quickly applying pressure once more. "Get zhe Intel!"

Demoman nodded and started to run after the RED Spy again. He called back to Medic, "Gotcha, doc! I'm on-"

Demoman then watched as, roaring, a train came along the tracks. He watched as the RED Spy stepped onto the tracks. He watched as the RED Spy and the train collided. He couldn't watch the RED Spy's body be sent to respawn, for he had no idea where it was flung after being hit by the train.

"…it," Demoman finished lamely. He watched as the train sped away, oblivious to the fact it had hit someone.

Behind him, Medic started to ask, "Um, vhere is zhe-"

The BLU Intel, sailing through the air, came hurtling towards them. It roughly hit the ground and then tumbled a few feet closer. It came to a halt right in front of Demoman.

Demoman blinked. He then turned around to look at Medic, who also just blinked. "Good god," Demoman rolled his eye, grinning. "I love this map."

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**W** is for _window_.

Medic's eyes were closed as he played. The soothing sounds of his violin floated throughout the entire infirmary. His doves were perched around him, their cooing silenced as he played. It was peaceful. Medic could play like this for hours. He was almost done with his current song. Once done, he would move on to his favorite. Or he would have. He _would have_ played his favorite song next if a baseball hadn't came flying through one of the infirmary's windows. Again. The familiar sound of a window shattering, panicked doves' cries, and sheets of paper fluttering about filled his ears. And when his doves settled down, a familiar sight greeted his eyes: broken glass, feathers, scattered sheets of paper, and a baseball attempting to appear innocent a few feet away from the window. Medic's eye twitched.

"SCOUT!" His screech now filled the infirmary instead of his violin. "ZAT'S ZHE SECOND VINDOW ZIS MONTH!"

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A/N: Writer's block happened and came back with a vengeance. Woo.


	24. X is for xenophobia

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**X** is for _x-rated_.

"Demo, that's x-rated! No, that's _beyond_ x-rated! There is no way in Sam Hell you're takin' that out onto the field!"

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**X** is for _xenophobia_.

"Ha! Take that, you RED communist bastard!" Soldier yelled as he happily sent a rocket flying right into the RED Heavy's face.

Medic watched as the RED Heavy exploded into a million different pieces. He then turned to frown at Soldier. "You know, Soldier," Medic said. "I'm beginning to think you haf xenophobia."

"Xenophobia?" Soldier repeated before shaking his head. As he started reloading his Rocket Launcher, he said, "I don't have that."

Medic looked surprised. "You know vhat is it?"

"Yes," Soldier scoffed. "I'm not asstupid as you think I am, sweetheart."

Medic frowned and asked, "But how do you know you don't haf it?"

"I know I don't have it 'cause I'm not _scared_ of foreigners," Soldier explained. "I just don't _like_ them."

"Uh-huh…" Medic said slowly.

"Don't worry, Nancy," Soldier grinned as he patted Medic on the back. "I like _you_ despite you bein' a foreigner!"

To this day, Medic _still_ wondered if that was a good thing or not…

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**X** is for _x-ray_.

"That is not right."

"Zat's disgusting."

"Mph grphf."

"Thankfully, I already don't remember this."

"Arm should not be doing that."

"Oh, c'mon," Soldier said as he looked at his fellow BLUs. "It's not that bad."

"Solly," Scout didn't risk glancing at Soldier as he spoke to him. He didn't know if he could handle the sight again. "Your fuckin' arm bone is fuckin' stickin' outta your arm. It's fuckin' bad!"

"Eet's disgusting is what eet is," Spy repeated, curling his lip at the sight of Soldier's broken arm.

"Is not right," Heavy said, frowning. "Bones should not be doing that. Soldier should have Medic look at it."

"Myie agrph," Pyro nodded.

Soldier frowned, looking down at his throbbing left arm. He didn't know which one, but some bone was sticking out of his arm, clearly broken. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but it hurt. Just a bit, though. So going to Medic _would_ be the reasonable thing to do, but… "He told us he didn't want to be disturbed."

But then again, this was Soldier. Stubborn, stubborn Soldier.

"Since when d'you listen to other people?" Scout snorted and rolled his eyes. "Especially Medic."

"I listen to him!"

"Yeah, only when he agrees to rocket jump with ya or makes that strudel ya like so much."

"I listen!" Soldier repeated stubbornly. "I'll just kill myself and respawn. It'll save the doc the trouble so he can finish all his quack paperwork."

Demoman suddenly spit out the Scrumpy he was drinking. "Now, don't be doin' that, ya bloody nut!" he shrieked.

"Why not?"

"Well, firstly," Spy started to answer. "You know 'ow zhe Administrator feels about us killing ourselves needlessly."

"Firstly?" Demoman repeated and rolled his eye. "Look, I may be slightly tipsy-"

"Drunk," All the other BLUs interrupted.

"Ach, whatever," Demoman waved it off. "But I'm sober enough ta remember that respawn is down."

"Oh, yeah," Scout said. "I forgot about that."

"Is why Engineer is so upset today," Heavy remembered. "Has to monitor system and fix and such."

"Aw," Soldier frowned. "I wanted to see how many rockets I could take."

Pyro sighed and left, mumbling something no one could make out.

Scout started to walk away as well. "Jus' go see Medic already!" he called back. "Your arm is fuckin' gross!"

Spy snorted in agreement and followed the Bostonian.

"I need more Scrumpy," Demoman decided. "Gotta wash the images of yer screwed up arm outta me head. Never seen an arm _that_ mangled before."

Heavy and Soldier watched as Demoman left. They then turned to face one another. A silence fell upon the two. After a moment, Heavy lifted a hand to point down a hallway and in the direction of the infirmary. He said nothing else.

Soldier looked between the hallway and Heavy, still frowning. "Commie," he listlessly spat before heading for the infirmary. Soldier heard Heavy give a satisfied grunt as he walked away. He would have flipped the Russian off, but his arm was broken and the other arm was supporting the broken one so he didn't. He walked to the infirmary, debated whether or not to knock, and finally settled on kicking the door down.

"_Mein Gott_!" Medic jumped up from his desk, scattering a few papers. He scowled when he looked at Soldier. "Vhat is it now? I told you not to-"

Soldier held up his arm, cutting Medic off.

"Your arm," Medic said rather calmly. He quickly walked around his desk and over to Soldier. "Let me see." He yanked the arm closer (Soldier managed not to grunt in pain) to inspect it.

After a minute of scrutinizing, Soldier impatiently asked, "Can ya fix it or not, cupcake?"

"Of course I can fix it," Medic scoffed and released Soldier's arm. "Just not vith my Medi Gun."

"What?"

"It's recharging," Medic said sheepishly. "But zis gives me an opportunity!"

"An opportunity?"

"To use somezing I haf never used before!" Medic grinned, looking excited. Soldier had never seen him look like that before. He practically skipped over to a corner of the infirmary. "Oh, just vait until you see it, Soldier!"

"See what?" Soldier asked as he hesitantly stepped further into the infirmary.

"Zis!" Medic pulled a white sheet off of some weird looking machine Soldier was sure he couldn't trust.

"What the hell is that?"

"An x-ray machine," Medic answered, still smiling. "Or x-radiation machine. It's a form of electromagnetic radiation. Zhe machine is used to generate x-rays so I can acquire an x-ray image of zhe inside of an object!"

"Inside of an object as in…"

"As in your arm," Medic nodded. He patted the machine. "Let's try it out!"

"No way," Soldier answered immediately.

Medic frowned. "Vhy not?"

"There is no way I'm allowing that machine to take weird-o photos of my arm!"

"Technically, it vill be taking photos of your _bones_."

"Even better reason not to trust it," Soldier snorted, still clutching his arm. "I'll wait for the Medi Gun to charge."

"But, Soldier," Medic tried to reason. "I haf never used it before and-"

"Good. You don't need to."

"…You vill be looking a photos of your _bones. _Von't zat be-"

"Already looking at them now. As they stick out of my arm."

"Zhe machine is not going to hurt you, Soldier!"

"Don't care. I could handle any pain it would try to inflict upon me, anyways."

"Zen vhy von't you let me try it out?" Medic ground out, irritated he couldn't use his machine.

"Hmm…" Soldier actually looked thoughtful. After a long moment, all he said in reply was, "No."

"Ugh," Medic groaned. There went any fun he would have had today. He just wanted to try out his new x-ray machine and with Soldier breaking his arm it was the perfect opportunity. But stubborn Soldier and his weird issue with technology wasn't going to go for it… Unless… "Soldier?"

"Yeah?"

"If you let me use zis new x-ray machine on you, I'll use zhe Quick-Fix and rocket jump vith you all day tomorrow."

Soldier paused, looking warily at Medic. "Is that a bribe?"

"_Ja_."

"In that case, make it two days and you got a deal."

"One full day and half-a-day," Medic negotiated.

Soldier frowned. That wasn't very much time and it was nice to have Medic constantly heal you when you were rocket jumping all over the place, but his arm was really starting to hurt… "Fine. All day tomorrow and half of the day after that. Can we fix my arm now?"

Medic resisted the urge to squeal. "Yes!" he said happily. "Ve vill take x-rays of it, put a temporary cast on it, and zen heal it vhen my Medi Gun is done charging."

"Great," Soldier let out a small sigh as he walked over to the x-ray machine.

"Oh, vone more thing," Medic suddenly looked confused. "How did you break your arm anyvay?"

"Oh, uh," Soldier coughed and looked a little sheepish. "It all started when I placed a little bet with Demoman…"

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A/N: Wow, x turned out a little bit better than I thought it would.


	25. Y is for yell

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**Y** is for _yuck_.

"Hey, Spy?" Scout whispered to Spy as he leaned a little closer.

Spy didn't look up, just let out a quiet, "Hm?"

"You're real good with food, right?"

"What?" Spy raised an eyebrow.

"Y'know, you really know a lot about food 'n' are good at makin' it…"

"I am good at making a large number of dishes and quite knowledgeable, yes. _Pourquoi_?"

"I was wonderin'," Scout looked at his plate in front of him. "If ya could tell me what I'm attempting to stomach here."

"Zhe traditional Scottish dish Demoman so kindly made us," Spy poked the food in question with his fork. "'aggis."

"I know it's haggis," Scout said as he poked at his own plate of haggis. "I was wonderin' what exactly it's made of, though."

"Eet is a sort of pudding make with sheep's 'eart, liver, and lungs, oatmeal, minced onion, suet, salt, and spices," Spy explained to Scout. "Eet is traditionally encased in an animal's stomach and simmered zere."

"Yuck."

"Indeed."

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**Y** is for _yell_.

"Ahhh!"

"Ohmygodohmygod_ohmygod_!"

"Get it out, get it out, get it out!"

"Aw, would both of ya quit your yellin'?" Sniper glared at Medic and Scout, both of which had decided to plaster themselves against a nearby wall. "S'just a little snake."

"Little?" Scout repeated, still not moving from the wall. "That thing's huge! And did you see its freakin' teeth, man?!"

"And it's in our cabinet," Medic shivered. "Vhere ve keep our plates and cups… How unsanitary!"

Sniper rolled his eyes. After reaching his hand in, Sniper pulled a snake out of the cabinet. It loosely curled around his wrist and flicked its tongue out rapidly. "Aw, ain't she cute?" he said as he gazed at the creature.

"Cute?" Scout looked taken aback. "That thing is not cute! Lyra is cute!"

"My doves are cute," Medic put in.

"Sure," Scout agreed. "But a freakin' _snake_? That is not cute!"

"Pfft," Sniper snorted. "Would you two just look at 'er? She's a right beauty!"

The two were already staring at the snake in horror anyway. "Ugh," Medic groaned. "Vould you just take it outside already, Sniper?"

"Fine, fine," Sniper said as he made to exit the kitchen. But just as he passed Scout and Medic, he suddenly lunged the hand holding the snake at them, shouting, "She's gonna get 'cha!"

Scout and Medic screamed, jumping back and nearly falling all over each other.

Sniper laughed out loud. "Oh, your yellin' is priceless."

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**Y** is for _yogurt_.

Engineer slowly took his goggles off with one hand and shook them a little. His other hand came up to his face to wipe it. His now visible, and very angry, eyes scanned the table venomously.

The other BLUs visibly wilted at the sight of his scowl.

"Who _threw_ that yogurt?!"

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**Y** is for _yawn._

Pyro shifted a bit in his seat. An odd, muffled sound came out from his mask.

"You say somethin', Pyro?" Engineer, who was sitting next to him, asked.

"Nph," Pyro responded with a shake of his head. "Jsst mph ywnn."

"Oh, a yawn? I suppose it is gettin' rather late," Engineer said as he checked the time on a nearby clock. He suddenly brought a hand up to his mouth to cover it as he yawned.

"Oh, great," Scout said. He was sitting across from the two and now glaring at them both. "Look what you just started, Pyro!"

"Wnph?"

"You know what they about yawning," Engineer explained. "It's contagious."

"And I'm highly allergic!" Scout spat. His lips twitched. He was trying to hold it back, but after a moment, his mouth opened to let out a loud yawn. "Ah, damn it."

Medic let out a loud yawn as well. "Zat's my signal to go to bed. Good night." He got up and left the table without another word as the rest of the BLUs in the kitchen said their goodnights to the man.

Engineer, Scout, and Pyro turned to Spy, who just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Dnph ynf hnph mph unrph mph ywnn?" Pyro asked.

"No," Spy said simply.

"Seriously?" Scout frowned. "That is not fair. I swear I yawn when I just hear the fuckin' word." His frowned suddenly deepened. He made no attempt to hide his next yawn. "Shit, that's it. I'm goin' to bed." Scout got up from the table. "'Night!" he called as he left the kitchen.

Another muffled sound came from Pyro's mask. "Onf, wnff frph mnf," he snorted as he got up. "Gnnfph, Engiph, Spff."

"'Night, Pyro," Engineer nodded at the other. He covered another yawn with his hand. "Well I suppose I'll follow the crowd," he said as he got up from the kitchen table. He grabbed his glass from the table and put it in the sink before heading for the kitchen exit. "Don't stay up too late, Spy. We got a match tomorrow."

Spy just rolled his eyes as Engineer left. He looked back down to his book. He was mostly still as he read the book. Only his eyes darted back and forth as he read. He blinked. Suddenly, Spy's lips twitched. He swallowed and frowned, but that didn't help. A moment later, Spy yawned. "Ugh," he groaned, setting his book down and slapping a hand to his face. "Eet's _so_ contagious."

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**Y** is for _yes_.

"C'mon, Engie!"

"Sol, I said _no_."

"But we need one!"

"No, we don't!"

"Yes, we do!"

"I am not havin' this argument with you, Soldier," Engineer said, before going back to upgrade his dispenser.

Soldier frowned, watching Engineer beat the machine with his wrench. After a minute, he said, "Don't make me do it, Engie."

"Do what?" Engineer didn't even look away from his dispenser.

"You know _what_."

Engineer froze. He slowly turned around to face Soldier. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Sol, think about what you're about to do here," Engineer tried to reason. "It'll hurt me just as much as you!"

"For the sake of the team, I will do it," Soldier said valiantly.

"Sol, this is too much for needin' one little t-"

"You had your chance, Engie!" Soldier interrupted. He then magically pulled Scout out of nowhere, but kept a hand over the Bostonian's mouth.

"Myhi, Enif!" Scout said in a cheery, muffled voice.

"Sol, please don't do it! Anything but that!"

"I'm truly sorry, Engie," Soldier said, but then removed his hand from Scout's mouth, allowing him to talk.

"NEED-A TELEPOTER HERE! NEED-A TELEPORTER HERE! NEED-A TELEPORTER HERE!"

Engineer and Soldier both covered their ears, but it was no use. They could still hear _it_.

"Make it stop!" Engineer cried.

"NEED-A TELEPORTER HERE! NEED-A TELEPORTER HE-"

"Then build a teleporter!" Soldier shouted back.

"NEED-A TELEPORTER HERE! NEED-A TELEPORTER HE-"

Engineer could take it for long. "Alright! Alright! I'll build your goddamn teleporter!."

Scout stopped yelling and Soldier immediately uncovered his ears. "Yes!" They high-fived.

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A/N: Do you know how many times I yawned while writing this. Do you.

This chapter was very serious. Especially that last one. Vry srs.


	26. Z is for zoo

Pit-Trap: I do not own these characters, TF2, etc.

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**Z** is for _zonked_.

"Demo," Engineer began as he looked at Demoman. "You're zonked, aren't ya?"

"Bonked?" Demoman looked slightly more than tipsy. "'m not bonked! Never have been before! What 'cha say that fer, Engie? Wha' s'it mean anyw-"

"No, Demo," Engineer sighed. "Zonked, not bonked. It means you're drunk, which you are."

"Oh, zonked?" Demoman took a swig of Scrumpy before saying, "No, I'm not! 'm pretty sure I'ma Demoman, actually…"

Engineer nearly growled. Just what he needed, Demoman drunk before a fight _again_… "How many bottles of booze have ya had, Demo?"

"Tha's not important! All that matters is'at ye think I'm bonked-"

"Zonked."

"That, too!"

Engineer groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead.

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**Z** is for _zero_.

Zero was never a good number around the BLUs. It was kind of unlucky.

Soldier ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He had to make it there, he just had to! If he could make one final push, the BLU team just might make it. He stuffed a few rockets into his rocket launcher and rocket jumped off the ground. In seconds Soldier was halfway to the final point of Badwater Basin. One more jump would get him there. The cart was just about to be pushed into the final point, but the REDs were putting up quite the fight. It also didn't help that their resupply room was so close. But Soldier had a plan. He was going to rocket jump right next to the cart and give it that one final push. The push to victory! Soldier loaded his rocket launcher once more and jumped away. Oh, his aim was _awesome_. He would land right next to the cart for sure. All he had to do next was-

"YOU FAILED."

As soon as Soldier heard that disappointing declaration, he frowned, lost his concentration, and promptly landed face first onto the ground. He couldn't give the cart the final push. The clock had hit zero.

Zero was also kind of scary.

Lyra watched the red dot carefully. The end of her tail flicked back and forth as she crept closer to it. Hesitating for one last second, she then sprang into the air and leaped for the dot. She landed right of top of it, but when she checked beneath her paws it was gone! The sneaky red dot appeared again a few feet away and she ran for it again. Scout snorted in laughter as he watched Lyra run all over Engineer's workshop, trying to catch the dot. He was sitting at a table and Engineer was sitting next to him. Blueprints were scattered all over the table. Engineer's eyes were glued to them.

Scout briefly looked over at Engineer for a moment. As he watched the Texan read and hum to himself, Scout had a wicked idea. He grinned. He flicked the laser pointer off and turned around in his chair so he was facing Engineer.

Lyra, a few feet away and on the ground, snapped her head up. Where had that evil red dot gone now? She began to sniff about the workshop, looking for it.

Scout, however, was currently staring very pointedly at Engineer, who made no indication he noticed. Scout suddenly held the laser pointer out and pointed it at Engineer.

Engineer didn't move and continued his humming and reading of his blueprints.

Scout flicked the laser pointer on and rapidly turned it off again.

Still, Engineer didn't move.

Scout still grinned. He turned it on again and soon the red dot was flying all over Engineer's face. But Engineer wasn't moving! Scout now frowned. He rapidly turned the laser pointer on and off over Engineer's goggles. Maybe the goggles were too thick and the laser couldn't-

"Scout."

The laser pointer was flicked off. "Yeah?"

"I would appreciate it if ya didn't flicker the laser pointer right in mah eyes," Engineer said, not looking up from the blueprints.

"'Kay," Scout nodded. He turned the laser pointer on again and looked at it. Curious, he shined it into his own eye. Bad idea. He quickly moved it away and rubbed at his eyes. It _must_ have been bright enough to penetrate Engineer's goggles, but it wasn't like Scout was going to try that again. He sighed in a clear, bored manner. "What 'cha readin', Engie?" He set the laser pointer down and picked up a blueprint.

"Blueprints," Engineer answered obviously.

"Ya don't say," Scout replied sarcastically as he picked up another.

"Scout, stop pickin' 'em up. I've got them organized in a certain way here 'n' you're messin' 'em up."

"I was just lookin'," Scout retorted glumly as he set the blueprints back down.

"Well, I'm almost done with 'em 'n' I can't get done with 'em when you're messin' 'em up. I'll be done in a few so jus' hold your horses," Engineer replied, eyes _still_ on the blueprints.

"Ugh," Scout groaned and slumped down his chair. He felt Lyra brush against his leg and he reached down to pet her briefly before picking the laser pointer back up. Bored, Scout flicked it back on. He began to trace the lines of the blueprints in front of him with the red dot. It looked like it was some sort of advanced sentry. Scout wasn't really focused on it as he twirled the red dot around the pictures of it. Maybe it was-

Suddenly, Lyra jumped up onto the table, tearing after the red dot. Scout jumped a little and, in his surprise, turned the laser pointer off.

That didn't stop Lyra, though. Thinking the red dot had just hidden itself beneath the blueprints, she scrambled across the entire table. That sent blueprints flying and caused a nearly full soda can to tip over and onto some blueprints.

Engineer had jumped as well and was leaning back in his chair, watching openmouthed.

After a few minutes of batting at blueprints with her paws, Lyra decided the red dot wasn't there. She sat down right in the middle of the table and meowed in despair.

Engineer and Scout just stared at the cat for a moment. Then Engineer whipped his head around to glare at Scout.

Scout dared to tear his gaze away from Lyra to look back at Engineer. Oh, the Texan did not look happy… He briefly glanced down at the laser pointer in his hand and then back up to Engineer, who still didn't look any happier. Scout laughed nervously and hid the laser pointer behind his back. "She did it," he then said as he pointed at Lyra.

"Uh-huh," Engineer crossed his arms and raised an unhappy eyebrow. "Scout, ya have 'till zero to get outta mah workshop before I do something _I_ won't regret."

"Uhh-"

"_Zero_."

"Oh, jeez!"

Sometimes, zero was just something one should avoid at all costs.

Medic walked into kitchen, intend on getting a late night snack. As he walked into said room, he glanced to his left to see a few of the other BLUs playing cards at the kitchen table. Spy and Scout were, unsurprisingly, playing. Demoman and Pyro were also playing. They each a number of cards in their hands. As Medic walked past the table and towards the fridge, he asked, "Vhat are you all playing?"

"Poker," Demoman replied.

"Ah," Medic said as he pulled some leftover cheesy potatoes ("Cheesy potaters," Sniper would insist) out of the fridge. After he heated them up on a plate, Medic walked back over to the table to briefly watch. "Zhe round almost done?"

"Yep," Scout nodded.

"And how is it going?"

"Not good!" Demoman declared unhappily, before slapping his cards on the table. "I fold."

"Mrph hurr…" Pyro huffed and rested his head on his hand, staring at his cards.

"This does not look good," Scout said, keeping his eyes on his cards.

Medic looked over to Spy. "And how are you doing, Spy?" he asked before walking back over to the microwave to pull out his snack.

Spy was grinning rather widely and making no move to hide it. "Oh, I don't want to say," he dodged the question, but it was clear from his smug voice he was doing more than fine. "Care to join us, Medic?"

"How many rounds haf you all played?" He took a bite of his cheesy potatoes.

"Oh, only a few."

Medic quickly swallowed before asking, "And how many rounds haf you _lost_, Spy?"

Spy's grin grew. "Zero.

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**Z** is for _zoo_.

This wasn't good. That was a major understatement, Spy realized as soon as he thought about it. This was very, very bad. He should have realized how bad it was when the robots attacked their base. He should have realized how bad it was when the Administrator told them respawn was down. Spy should have realized it. It was too late now, of course. The damage had been done. The robots had gotten into their actual base, where they _lived_. And now the base looked just _awful_. Holes in the walls, some smoke still filled the air, doors ripped off hinges, broken windows, and probably even more damage about than Spy had yet to see. Unfortunately, the damage to the base wasn't the worst part.

The BLUs were hit hard, but no one had died. _Yet_. Medic was in the infirmary, working like a madman. The three beds of the infirmary were taken up by Demoman, Heavy, and Soldier. Spy wasn't aware of their current conditions, though. Perhaps they were okay, and perhaps not. Medic was doing the best he could, Spy was sure. He could hear the man's frantic footfalls. It was a good thing Engineer had rigged up a dispenser for the German in the infirmary. While Medic healed his patients' wounds, it healed his. Engineer was no where to be found, though. Spy realized he wasn't aware of Sniper's location either. Perhaps they were okay, and perhaps not. Spy was a bit too busy to worry about their locations at the moment. Busy trying not to pass out.

Spy's left arm was the main problem. Most of it was burned, but he grit his teeth to bear it. It was beginning to go numb now anyways. One of his ankles was incredibly sore and he hoped it wasn't sprained. Other than his arm and ankle and a few cuts and bruises, that was about it. He was better than most. Pyro was probably worse. It was hard to tell. Spy sat outside of the infirmary, not in a chair, but on the ground. Pyro was sitting, slumped against the wall, across from him. Spy couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. He wasn't moving. That gaping hole in his suit around his stomach area might have something to do with that. Scout wasn't too good either. The Bostonian was sitting next to him, eyes closed. His legs were unfortunately the worst. Multiple tears in Scout's pants led to bloodied skin and bruises beneath. Spy wondered how many more bruises lay beneath Scout's clothes. The Bostonian hadn't been able to walk after the battle. Spy forgot who had (or better yet, _was able_) to carry him in.

Thinking about his teammates made Spy remember something. "You're not asleep, are you, Scout?" he suddenly asked, surprised at how tired his voice sounded.

After a second, Scout shifted a bit. "Almost was," he grumbled, cracking open his eyes. Blinking, he looked to his right and at Spy. "I _wanna_ go to sleep, though."

Spy leaned his head back against the wall. "Medic said not to."

"But my legs're sore 'n' m'tired," Scout whined.

"Doctor's orders."

Scout suppressed another whine and leaned his head back against the wall. A silence fell between the two.

After a few moments, Spy soon noticed Scout's eyes fluttering and having trouble staying open. "Scout," he warned.

Scout just grunted.

"Eyes open," Spy commanded.

Scout's eyes opened once more. They glared at Spy.

"ow are your legs?"

Scout sighed. Knowing Spy was just trying to help keep him awake, he replied, "Not any better. Still throbbin' in pain 'n' all. Feet hurt, too." He suddenly shifted again, trying to lift one of his legs up. It shook as he tried to lift it a foot or so off the ground. "And it still hurts to move 'em."

"Zen don't," Spy snapped and Scout relaxed again.

"How's your arm?" Scout asked, turning slightly to face Spy.

Spy tried to wiggle the fingers on his left hand, but it hurt too much. He stopped trying. "Same as you: not any better."

"It looks awful," Scout commented. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not as much as before."

"Liar."

"And you would know?" Spy grinned questioningly at Scout, who just stuck his tongue out in reply. Spy resisted the urge to roll his eyes and looked down at his injured arm. His grin melted away. It actually really hurt to move his fingers and it hurt even more to move his wrist. The skin on his arm was a horrid mess and Spy couldn't bear to stare at it for too long. When he looked back up, he found Scout's eyes closed again. "Scout," Spy snapped again. "Eyes."

Scout gave a wordless whine, but didn't open his eyes.

"Talk, Scout," Spy said. "Ramble. Eet will keep us both awake."

Scout opened an eye. "You're tired, too?"

"_Oui_, very."

"Oh," Scout said simply and opened his other eye to look at the ground.

He must have been quiet for too long because Spy started to say, "Scout-"

"I wanna go to a zoo."

"_Quoi_?"

"Y'know, a zoo," Scout said. He moved to sit a little straighter. "I haven't been to one since I was, like, a kid."

"Hm," Spy hummed in thought, relieved Scout was distracting them.

"You been to a zoo before, Spy?"

Spy frowned. He honestly couldn't recall. "I don't know," he replied. "If I 'ave, eet was a long time ago. Long before I could remember."

"When we're done with this fightin' 'n' shit, you wanna go to a zoo with me?"

Suddenly, Pyro shifted, causing both Scout and Spy to look across at him. Had he been awake this whole time? "Cnahf cnff?" he asked weakly. It came out raspy (much more so than usual) and almost not understandable.

"Yeah, Py," Scout answered, grinning. "You can come, too."

Pyro's response was undistinguishable, but it sounded somewhat happy sounding. He then slumped against the wall once more.

"You're comin', right, Spy?" Scout asked again, looking back to Spy.

"_Oui_," Spy said after a moment, allowing his lips to turn upwards. "After zhe fighting is done, we will go to a zoo."

"Cool," Scout's grin grew and he closed his eyes once more.

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A/N: Ha ha. See what I did there? References. I just love 'em.

But I'm afraid that will be the last reference. For this story is over. Done. Complete. Finished.

I must thank you all for the support! Thank you for the reviews and words of kindness! As always, I'm glad so many people enjoyed this. It's been fun!


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